A Bad Monday
by Iceworm
Summary: There are only 24 hours in a day. Ryan's Monday finally comes to an end.
1. 6:00 am

Disclaimer: The characters all belong to other people.

A.N. Many thanks go to Lisa for her assistance in getting this in final shape. If there is anything wrong it's my fault and it would have turned out better if I'd only listened to Lisa.

A Bad Monday

6:00 AM

Ryan woke to the music of his clock radio and the clanging bell of his alarm clock competing with each other to announce the start of another Monday. Seth had pronounced himself appalled that Ryan actually paid money for a windup clock. He claimed to see it as evidence that Ryan was still living in the twentieth century. 

On a morning like this, Ryan knew he'd been right to buy a clock with the loudest alarm he could find and was glad he had set his backup alarm last night. The music coming from the clock radio, even tuned to Seth's favorite radio station, wasn't annoying enough this morning to get him going and he could handle it without leaving bed. The alarm clock required him to get out of bed. 

The sleeping pill had done its job. He'd enjoyed eight hours of uninterrupted and dreamless sleep. In the last two days he had managed only a couple of short fitful naps. Never had his body hurt so badly, in so many places, not even after the worst fight. He could find no comfortable sleeping position. Just the pain of turning in bed still jolted him awake. 

On the few occasions when he managed to fall asleep, the dream would start. The dream always played out the same: he was watching the emergency personnel work on the Range Rover and he was yelling at them to help Seth first. The men working on the truck never heard him; and Seth, covered in blood, always emerged last. Seth's question to his rescuers 'Is Ryan okay?' a;.

The pain and stiffness that made every movement an effort seemed little improved from yesterday. Well, he'd known this moment would come so he raised himself onto his elbows and slowly inched his way toward the edge of the bed. He might not want to move but he did want to silence that alarm clock. Its incessant clanging was giving him a headache.

Ryan reached the edge of the bed and threw back the covers. Slowly he swung his legs over the side and let their momentum bring his body up so that he was now sitting up on the edge of his bed. Pushing up and off from the side of the bed, he crossed the room like an old man, hunched over in pain, to shut off the alarm. The sudden quiet in the pool house, was only broken by the cracking of the vertebrate in his back as he slowly stretched and studied his next challenge. The steps up from the sleeping area to the upper level of the pool house had to be overcome to reach the bathroom and a hot shower.

Before this weekend, he had never thought of two steps up as a climb. But now it was only the desire for hot water on his aching body that got him to the top and into his bathroom. Going for a water temperature as hot as he could stand, he reached into the shower stall and adjusted the faucets. He slipped off his sleeping shorts and let them drop where he stood. Staring at them for a moment, he hoped that the shower would loosen his joints enough for him to be able to pick them up after the shower. With that cheery thought, he opened the shower door and stepped into the steamy stall.

The heat of the water was a shock against his skin. Ryan leaned into the force of the stream and pressed his palms against the wall of the shower stall. The water struck his neck and cascaded down his back. He relaxed his back, working as many of his aching muscles as possible under the pulsing jets of the showerhead. As the water soothed the tension in his muscles, his thoughts returned to the night of the accident when he had made such a fool of himself at the hospital.

*****

Ryan was slumped down in one of the chairs in the waiting room asleep. His exhaustion and the pain medication had finally overcome his concern for Seth. He didn't see the surgeon come out of the door leading back to the surgical suites nor did he notice when Sandy and Kirsten left him to go over to talk with the doctor. When Kirsten touched his arm he roused with a start and stared at her in confusion. For a moment, he didn't recognize the woman with the tired, puffy eyes kneeling by his chair. Everything reconnected when she spoke.

"Ryan, Seth's surgeon was just here. He told us that he felt the surgery was a success and that Seth's doing well. He'll be going to Recovery in a few minutes, where he'll spend the rest of the night. Tomorrow they'll transfer him to the surgical floor." The words sounded like good news, but Ryan wondered why Kirsten still looked so worried.

"When can I see Seth?" At her lack of response to his question, suspicion clouded his face. "What's wrong, Kirsten? What aren't you telling me?"

Kirsten looked up at Sandy standing beside her. She was too tired to deal with this. She needed help. 

Sandy put his hand on her shoulder to steady her and tried to reassure the boy. "Ryan, Kirsten told you everything we know. We're not keeping anything from you. We're all tired. And you, especially, need to go home and get some rest. As soon as Seth gets to Recovery, I'm taking you home."

Ryan shook off Kirsten's hand and stood up. "NO, I WON'T LEAVE! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! I WON'T GO!" He yelled, backing away from them. He crossed his arms over his stomach as though to ward off a blow and turned his back on them.

Sandy helped Kirsten to her feet. Holding hands they stared at Ryan's back. Again Kirsten went to him, laying her fingers lightly on his shoulder. The flinch she felt at her touch made her shiver. "Ryan, honey, please turn around. Please look at me. Sandy's telling the truth. We're not keeping anything from you. We think you should go home because you're exhausted and because we're worried about you."

Embarrassed by his outburst and the hurt he heard in Kirsten's voice, but unwilling to back down, Ryan didn't turn. "If that's true, I want to see Seth before I go home."

"Ryan, that's not possible. They don't allow anyone under 18 into Recovery and only one visitor can be in with him at a time. Sandy isn't just going to take you home; he's going home to stay, to get some sleep himself." Kirsten gave Sandy a sharp look daring him to contradict her. She felt the tension leave Ryan's shoulder. He rubbed his hand across his face and slowly turned to face them.

"It's just that people don't always get well in hospitals, I know that. They also die here. And, sometimes people lie to you when they don't want you around, or because they think they're protecting you, or maybe a lie is just more convenient for them." Ryan's voice was choked with emotion. "If Seth died, the last thing I heard him say was, 'Is Ryan okay?' I have to be here for him."

Kirsten drew Ryan to her in a fierce hug. "Ryan, we're not doing any of those things. If I seem worried, it's just that this place brings back memories of my mother's death. We just want you to get some rest. I promise if anything happens during the night that you _will_ be here. Do you believe me?" She studied his face intently. His shy smile reassured her.

"Yeah, I believe you. But, can I at least see Seth before I leave? I wouldn't have to go into his room, or anything. I need to see for myself that he's okay." Ryan directed his plea to both of them.

Kirsten looked at Sandy helplessly. Sandy nodded and, with the attitude of a man thinking out loud, asked. "Kirsten, do you think this hospital would like a pediatric trauma unit? I'll ask when I present Ryan's request to the powers that be." Kirsten gave him a surprised look and then smiled as she watched him walk away to find someone in charge.

"Can you guys forgive me for being so…?" Ryan hesitated.

Kirsten laughed and brushed the hair out of Ryan's eyes. "…Concerned about Seth?" She offered. "Yes, always. Now if Sandy can swing this we have a deal, right? You will go home with Sandy and get some sleep." Kirsten tucked her arm through Ryan's and together they strolled toward Recovery to see what Sandy had worked out.

The persuasive power of Sandy's charm and Kirsten's checkbook proved that no rule was absolute. An hour later Ryan found himself standing alongside Sandy outside the curtains surrounding Seth's bed. Kirsten pulled back the curtains for them. They could see Seth lying still and pale, attached to monitors and IV stands by wires and tubes which formed a misshapen spider web with him, the fly, at its center.

Kirsten gave Sandy and Ryan, in turn, quick hugs. It pained her to see the anguish in Ryan's face. "I want the two of you out of here. The sooner you leave; the sooner you can relieve me tomorrow. Now, go!"

She handed Ryan off to Sandy and then settled herself into the chair next to Seth's bed. As they turned to leave, Sandy saw her open the new J. D. Robb novel he'd bought for her in the gift shop two days ago. He smiled to himself as he noted that she still seemed to be reading the first chapter.

Sandy turned to Ryan as they walked quietly through Recovery. "You know, Ryan, Seth's not big into hugs or any demonstrations of affection from the parental units." Ryan looked at him quizzically until Sandy held out a fist. Ryan smiled and touched knuckles with him.

Passing through the doors of the Recovery ward seemed to be the signal for the last of the Ryan's energy to fade away. He found himself thinking fuzzily about what Sandy had said about Seth and his parents, affection, and hugs. 

"Sometimes Seth's an idiot." Ryan glanced hastily at Sandy. Had he said that aloud? He hoped not but then what did Sandy find so funny?

*****

Ryan stretched, rolled his shoulders, and then turned, slowly letting the streaming water rinse away the last of the soapsuds. He still marveled at the good fortune that had brought him to this family. He told himself that it was only some stray shampoo that caused his eyes to water. Reluctantly, he turned off the water. He couldn't stay there all day, no matter how much better it made him feel.

The feel of the thick, soft towel against his skin was one more reminder that he wasn't in Chino anymore. These towels didn't come from the shelves at WalMart. The water had worked its magic; he could pick up his shorts from the floor where he had dropped them. 


	2. 6:45 am

A Bad Monday

6:45 am

"Where the hell is it? It has to be here. It was here on Thursday." But where had he seen it last? Ryan wished he hadn't taken that sleeping pill last night. He felt better for the rest and the shower but his thinking still seemed sluggish. He felt like a bag of the blue cotton candy Seth preferred (blue, he claimed, being less minty than pink) had been stuffed into his head.

Ryan had tried listening to music, watching TV, and reading, anything that might help him relax his body and mind. Confident that his history book would work its usual sleep magic, he'd even read his assignment for today. Nothing had given him more than temporary relief.

He had needed to sleep last night if he was to survive school today. So, he'd used one of the Ambien they had given him along with the pain pills at the hospital. He'd never taken a sleeping pill before. He only hoped that its effect on him wouldn't be as unsettling as the combination of pain pills and exhaustion had been on the night of the accident.

Ryan scanned the disorder surrounding him in the pool house. He hated the mess. It reminded him too much of every house that he'd ever lived in before coming to Newport. Never his room, but the rest of the house had always ended up resembling a before ad for Merry Maids. He'd wondered, but never dared to ask, if some of the moves they had made after his dad went to jail were because Dawn had preferred to forfeit the deposit than clean up the mess.

His room had been the one place over which he had some control. Not that he could depend on anyone respecting his privacy or his things, but he could keep his room clean. If he had ever dared to bring a friend home, he wouldn't have been embarrassed for them to come to his room. But that had never been an option. He never knew what or who might be waiting for him at home after school. So, none of his friends ever saw the inside of the Atwood home or met his family. It was better that way.

He had to be ready when Sandy was ready to leave. So, where was his European History book? He needed it today to study for the test, which he would have done this weekend if he hadn't spent the last three days at the hospital. He'd even carted it back and forth to the hospital, but that had proven to be a useless exercise. Every time he had opened it his mind had gone skittering away to thoughts of Seth. Ryan was honest enough with himself; however, to admit that history, as his least favorite subject, was always a pain. But his concern for Seth had eliminated any chance that he'd be able to absorb anything about The First Crusade.

Why did it have to be a history test today? Why not math or science? He loved things that were logical; that always gave the same answer every time you worked the problem. The formula for the area of a circle never changed. The rules were universal. You could count on them. Formulas and scientific laws didn't go postal on you. In a rational world you didn't end up in the emergency room getting stitches in your head for making too much noise during the ball game. Mothers didn't forget to cook dinner for their kids and they didn't they give them away to strangers, even kind and well-intentioned ones like the Cohens. 

Anything dealing with people was messy. History was filled with people making stupid, emotional decisions for unfathomable reasons that led to unforeseen and usually bad consequences. English, at least the rhetoric part, was a little better. Writing had rules of grammar and punctuation that could be learned and applied consistently.

Literature, however, had all the emotional untidiness that distressed him so. Why should he share with anyone how a poem affected him, even as a question on a test? Maybe he didn't want to think about what it meant or how it made him feel. Sociology and psychology were the same black pits, always posing questions with which he'd rather not deal.

There it was. He spied a corner of the book's cover peeking out from beneath yesterday's clothes. Clothes he'd shed on his way to bed last night.

"OK, let's take stock. I'm showered; I'm dressed; all the books I'll need today, including that damn history book, are in my backpack; and I've got money for lunch." The thought of lunch made him realize that he was hungry. He hoped that he still had time to grab something in the kitchen before they had to leave.

"Please let there be time for coffee."

But he couldn't leave yet. He couldn't leave the pool house this way, with dirty clothes strewn about and books and papers lying all over. It was Monday and Rosa would be in to clean today. He'd never gotten used to having someone clean up after him and he'd never left a mess for her to clean up before. He wished he could be as blasé about the whole servants and having money thing as Seth; but he doubted he ever could be. That attitude, he supposed, came from growing up with money.

Ryan suspected that Seth's room saw Rosa and her magic touch several times a week. How else could Seth's room stay so neat? Ryan knew what it looked like at the end of the average day.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to spare this morning. Hating it, he quickly gathered up his dirty clothes and tossed them into the closet. "I'm living in a teen sitcom." He mused, disgusted with himself, as he closed the door. "I'm hiding my sins and hoping that the housekeeper won't need to open the closet door." He reflected bleakly that it never worked on TV.

The bed could stay the way it was, he realized with relief. Rosa changed the sheets on Mondays. That left only the books and papers. There was nothing for it. All he could do was get them off the floor. They would just have to be piled on his desk. A large "Do Not Touch" note should keep Rosa from feeling that she needed to deal with that mess.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost 7:00. He wondered how Seth was doing. The nursing staff had probably been in and out of his room a couple of times already for his vitals and meds. He smiled at the thought. Now that Seth was starting to recover, he would not like that. Seth was not an early riser. The rumbles in his stomach reminded him that he still wanted breakfast if he could manage it. One last look around the pool house to reassure himself that he hadn't forgotten anything and he was off to the kitchen.


	3. 7:00 am

A Bad Monday

7:00 am

The smell of coffee brewing filled the kitchen as Ryan came in through the door from the patio. God is good, Ryan thought. Maybe caffeine would dissolve the gunk clogging up his brain. He set his backpack down on one of the counter stools and checked out the water level in the coffeemaker. Maybe thirty seconds, he guessed. He resisted the urge to replace the carafe with his mug. I like coffee. I am _not _addicted to coffee!

The coffee was ready now. He poured himself a mug and savored another of the benefits of his new life, really good coffee. How could anything so good be bad for you?

He didn't want to start the day thinking about addictions or if addictive behavior was hereditary. It had been a perverse fate that had caused his thirteen-year-old self to pull "The Roots of Addiction" off the shelf that day in the library. The book had given him far more information about addiction than he wanted. It was bad enough now that he thought he saw all the telltale signs in Marissa. He avoided dwelling on the possibility that he might be destined to follow his mom and dad down the same dark path.

Usually the books in the library had been his friends; and whenever things had spun out of control at home, its reading room had been his refuge. From the end of school until the library's closing time, unless sports or some school activity provided him with a legitimate excuse to stay away, nothing else claimed his out of school hours until he discovered girls. Dawn hardly noticed his absences and Trey only smiled broadly and winked when he happened to be home and Ryan got in late.

He smiled as he sipped his coffee. If he'd spent as much time on homework as he had reading in the Chino Public Library his grades would have been as impressive as the test scores that attracted Sandy's attention. He had coasted through school. Everything had been easy for him and he'd done only enough to keep himself off the radar screens of his school counselors. Neither gifted, nor in need of remedial work, Ryan Atwood slipped through school in stealth mode, unnoticed and unremarked.

A second handful of cereal and some juice made a start at satisfying his hunger. Sandy came through the door of the kitchen with the morning paper just as Ryan was pouring himself a second mug.

"Did you leave any for me?" Sandy asked eyeing the mug in Ryan's hand. Ryan smiled, filled Sandy a mug and handed it to him. 

"I talked to Kirsten this morning, Ryan --"

"How's Seth? Is everything ok?" Ryan interrupted. His eyes serious and focused on Sandy.

"Yes, Seth's fine. We talked about you." 

Ryan blinked in confusion and stared down into his mug. His hands wrapped around it as though needing the warmth to chase away a chill.

"We know Seth's being taken care of. What we're worried about is how well we're taking care of you. Did you get any sleep last night? I know you haven't slept much since the accident. I've seen the lights in the poolhouse going on and off at all hours of the night. I've heard your voice, shouting, during what I guess were nightmares, when I've come down to check on you. So, how are you?"

"You must not have been getting much sleep yourself if you know all that. But . . . I took one of the sleeping pills they gave me last night and slept like a rock. Everything is cool today." Ryan continued to stare into his mug and avoided meeting Sandy's eyes. "Besides, I have a history test today that I can't miss. Shouldn't we be going. I need to be there by 7:30 or 7:45 at the latest.

Sandy sighed as he placed his empty mug on the counter. "Ryan, neither Kirsten nor I think you should go in. We'll handle school. You've suffered a trauma that's more serious than a bruised and aching body. It would have taken very little for that accident to go differently and both of you boys would be in the hospital, or worse. Take a day off and get your head together."

"If I don't go to school, can I go to the hospital?"

"No. Kirsten and I want you to rest. Sit by the pool. Soak up some sun. You can go to the hospital in the afternoon. But you can't spend the day there." Sandy's tone was firm.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Ryan finished the last of his coffee. He looked longingly at the carafe as though considering finishing off the last of the coffee. Finally, after a quick glance at the clock, he sighed and carried their mugs to the sink. As he rinsed them he thought about how to explain so Sandy would understand.

"I'd skip school for Seth but not to have 'me time.' You . . . Kirsten . . . Dr. Kim . . . everyone keeps telling me how much work I need to make up to stay at Harbor. So, no." He placed the mugs in the dishwasher and straightened up slowly. "We need to go if I'm not gonna be late for school." Without waiting for a response, Ryan grabbed his backpack and headed out to the garage.

Sandy stared after him for a moment before picking up the unread newspaper and following him out of the kitchen. He tossed the newspaper into his briefcase lying open on the dining room table, checked his cellphone, and walked slowly to the garage.

Ryan was already in the passenger seat of the BMW when Sandy arrived and slid into the driver's seat. He glanced at Ryan and paused, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, making no move to start the car. Ryan caught the look and sheepishly pulled his seatbelt across his chest and fastened it with a snap. 

"Sorry."


	4. 7:15 am

A.N. I'm still responsible for all inconsistencies, flaws, and grammatical errors. Lisa you always ask the best questions and you'll find that you won more arguments than you lost. 

A Bad Monday

7:15 am

Sandy and Ryan drove along the quiet suburban streets of their community. The adobe colored mansions, with their red tile roofs, that lined these streets were all variations on the California mission style. Sandy found all this uniformity monotonous. Even after ten years of Southern California exile and despite his love for surfing, he still missed Berkeley, real seasons, and two-party politics. 

Conformity appealed to a Southern Californian mindset, which prized appearance over substance. Caleb Nichol had divined this and developed a new community to appeal to it. The multi-million dollar mansions had sprouted like desert flowers after a rain. It had become his El Dorado, the foundation of the Newport Group.

The automatic sprinklers that maintained the perfect emerald green lawns of these mansions were finishing their morning programs as the white-gloved security guards waved them through the gates. Ryan wondered cynically how long the guards' gloves would stay white out in the real world. For that matter, he wondered how long the guards themselves would survive in his old neighborhood.

Sandy merged the BMW easily into the late morning traffic. They had missed the heavier early-morning traffic of suits headed for the office towers downtown. The streets now belonged to the domestics, gardeners, and other invisible people needed to provide the indispensable services that kept Newport's bubble inflated and insulated from the realities of blue collar neighborhoods like Chino.

Sandy wondered if any of the people in the cars around them were coming in from Chino. Did any of them know Ryan? What would those people think if they knew that Ryan was behind the tinted windows of the black BMW passing them? Ryan Atwood, formerly of Chino, on probation, whose father and brother were in jail, and whose mother was in rehab, was on his way to a school at which the tuition cost more than many of those in the cars around them earned in a year. A pauper had become a prince. The preposterousness of the situation appealed to Sandy's sense of the absurd. A chuckle escaped him that distracted Ryan from his own preoccupation and prompted a question.

"What's so funny?'

"I was thinking about you, Ryan." At Ryan's raised eyebrows, Sandy hastened to add. "I mean I was thinking about your situation here in Newport and how no-one would believe the premise if it was fiction." 

Ryan smiled but went back to staring out the window without comment.

"I didn't tell you, but Seth's doctor was in to see him this morning." Sandy now had Ryan's complete attention. "Barring complications, Seth should be out of the hospital by the end of the week. The doctor said that he'd need a week or so of recuperation at home and then he could start back to school part-time." 

This news brought a broad smile to Ryan's face. 

"You know," he offered slowly, "I've been thinking about what happens when Seth comes home. I think I should move into the guestroom next to Seth's room while he's recovering. Since your bedroom is at the other end of the house, there's no need for one of you guys to move. Seth is gonna need someone to keep him company when he's awake. So, since I'm going to be up there all the time anyway," Ryan's expression was that of a martyr contemplating the dietary preferences of lions. "I might as well sleep up there too. It's only for a couple of weeks, after all."

"Thanks Ryan, but you don't have to do that. I saw Seth's old baby monitor in the garage and we could---" The end of Sandy's sentence was cut short by Ryan's bark of laughter. "You think he might take offense at us using a baby monitor?" Ryan's continued laughter was the only answer he received. "I see that you do. Hmm. I'll discuss your idea with Kirsten."

Sandy frowned thoughtfully and glanced over at Ryan. "It shouldn't come up but Seth could possibly require help with some of his personal needs when he comes home."

Ryan gave him a puzzled look and then chuckled. "Oh yeah. Like every sixteen-year-old boy wants his mom helping him with his personal needs? If it comes up, _we'll_ handle it. It won't be a problem."

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Sandy pressed on. "Why's this test so important that you can't miss it? You're recovering from an automobile accident." He shook his head slowly. "You're just like Kirsten."

"How's that?" Ryan asked curiously.

"Kirsten in college was totally obsessed with her grades. She made every test, every research paper a life or death event. She had to be the best at everything she did. I can't imagine where that came from!" 

The sarcasm in the car was so thick that Ryan wondered if he should open his window. 

"That was, of course, before she met me. I made it my personal mission in life to get this uptight, shiksa princess to loosen up. I taught her how to enjoy life, how to catch a wave."

"Kirsten surfs?" Ryan asked incredulously. "Does Seth know?"

"Surfed, past tense. She was never very good. Actually she sucked but she tried it for me. After she met the Sandman she learned to have fun and still graduated with honors. We had a lot of fun during our years in Berkeley after Seth was born and before her mom got sick. Those were good times," Sandy said wistfully, his mind calling up memories of less complicated times. 

"It's Euro." Ryan interrupted Sandy's reverie. He considered for a moment and then added. "It's my hardest, no correction, my least favorite subject."

"You got an A in Euro last semester. What's different this time?"

Ryan smiled to himself. Dawn had never shown any interest in Ryan's schoolwork. She had signed his report card, the minimum involvement demanded of a parent by the State of California, and that was all. She had never attended a teacher conference or any of the meetings his school counselors had tried to arrange with her. Ryan was unsure how he felt about Sandy and Kirsten's interest in his schoolwork. On the whole, he thought he liked it. Seth declared this to be a sign of serious weirdness on Ryan's part.

"Well, the difference is that Mr. O'Conell really liked the paper on the Inquisition that Luke and I did last semester. That paper counted for 50% of my grade and this semester I have to do another research paper but without a partner. This paper will also be worth 50% of my grade, but it won't have any of the high tech flash that Luke whipped up. That A+ helped a _lot_ last semester. My grade in Euro this semester will be based only on what Ryan Atwood turns in." Ryan's expression was a confusion of uncertainty and resignation..

"What's the problem, Ryan? You're a bright kid. You can pass any course - even one you dislike." Sandy glanced over at Ryan to gauge his reaction.

"But just passing isn't good enough! I don't know how much you and Kirsten are paying to send me to Harbor." There was a hint of anger in his voice. "I've asked but you won't tell me and Seth claims not to know. He says it's unimportant. But whatever it is, I owe it to you guys to do more than just pass a class. I owe you a lot more!" This last was said with an intensity that surprised Sandy.

Sandy's attention was diverted from Ryan by the increase in traffic as they neared the entrance to Harbor School.

"So, Ryan tell me the plan again for this afternoon."

Ryan scowled. "I'm sixteen not brain dead!"

"There's not as much difference between those two states as you might like to believe. Humor a poor parent, Ryan. What time am I picking you up and what do you do if one of us is late?"

"Okay, you're picking me up at 4:00 pm. The only reason I might be late is if Coach Thompson won't let me out of soccer practice. I'll see him last period in PE and work it out with him. Considering I look like I was in a car wreck…." Ryan smiled wryly and continued, "that shouldn't be a problem. Besides, the team's winning and Luke's as good as I am at striker." Turning serious, he continued. "Even if Coach doesn't buy it and won't excuse me, the worst he would do is bench me for a game or two for missing practice."

Sandy frowned at that. "I'll talk to Dr. Kim about you being excused from practice when I see her this morning about Seth. I don't want you having any more trouble with your coach or missing any games."

"Sandy, you're turning into a regular soccer dad. You like having a jock in the family you can brag about at the office. You probably have my team picture on your wall." Ryan said with an air of annoyance

"Actually it's on my desk next to the picture of Kirsten and Seth." Sandy offered in a casual voice. "But what do you do if you're going to be late?

Ryan arched an eyebrow at him and continued. "If I'm late, I'll call you on your cell as soon as I know there's a problem and you and Kirsten will work out who picks me up."

"And if I'm late?" Sandy asked.

The BMW turned onto the tree-lined avenue that served as the Harbor School's main street. It curved around a forested hill climbing to the top where the high school and administration buildings were located. The preschool, elementary school, and middle school facilities hugged the base of the hill. Sandy remembered now why it had always been Kirsten who took Seth to school. The street in front of him was a crazy confusion of meandering students, double parked cars, and irritated parents trying to fight their way out of the morass.

"If you're late, you'll leave me a voicemail on my cell. I'll call you as soon as I get your message. I'm not to leave campus without letting you or Kirsten know. But, seriously, Sandy, you need to check your cell phone. It hasn't rung once since we left home."

Sandy gratefully pulled into a space in the visitor's parking lot below the administration building. Getting out of the car, he locked it with his remote and joined Ryan who was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairway leading up to main campus.

Watching Ryan's slow progress, Sandy berated himself for his thoughtlessness. "Damn, Ryan. I should have looked for a spot on upper campus. Do you want some help with your backpack?"

"It's not a big deal, Sandy. I'm telling myself that it's physical therapy." Ryan shook his head, took a firm hold on the handrail, and continued his campaign to reach the top.

Matching his pace to that of Ryan's, Sandy took his cellphone out of his pocket and pressed a button on its face. The phone rang immediately. "No need to check anything, Ryan. It's working fine. I turned it off on the way out of the house."

Ryan blinked at him in surprise.

"Don't give me that look, Ryan. I am not a slave to my cell phone. I'm a responsible citizen: I turn it off in court, in public places, and when I'm having important conversations." As the phone rang again he paused to answer it. 

Ryan continued up the staircase, his head down, with a determined expression on his face. As he climbed past Sandy, he allowed himself a weak smile. He was amazed that Sandy would consider the drive to school with him important time. He stopped at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily. Straightening, he worked to relax his aching body and compose his face. Turning he waited until he caught Sandy's eye and waved before setting out for the quad.


	5. 8:00 am

A.N. Thanks again to my long suffering Beta, Lisa, who poured buckets of red ink over this chapter and so is not responsible for the mistakes. Thanks also to her for allowing me to borrow Tim for my story. He's a nice kid – too bad Lisa hasn't posted her story with him yet.

A Bad Monday

8:00 am

There were two paths leading away from the platform on which Ryan stood: one led off to the right along the crest of the hill to the admin center, Sandy's destination; the other took a meandering route down to the central quadrangle. Ryan headed to the quad. Coming to school today had been a dumb idea. This realization struck him on the climb up from the parking lot. If Sandy had asked him one more time if he wanted to go home, he would have said yes. 

Now Marissa, pride, and the gentle downhill slope of the path kept him moving forward. His prime motivation failed him when he found that Marissa wasn't on her usual bench waiting for him. He frowned as he saw that a kid from the Middle School had filled their bench with her book bag and assorted stuff. He vaguely recognized her. She was here on upper campus to take an AP class this semester. She looked up from her book and smiled when she realized someone had stopped in front of her, but her bright smile slipped to be replaced by a tentative, uncertain one as she caught sight of the expression on his battered face.

Ryan hadn't meant to scowl at the girl. He was concerned that Marissa wasn't where he expected her to be. Before he could say anything, the girl began hastily gathering up her belongings.

Where was Marissa? She was always on campus before he was on the rare days that he didn't ride with her. So, that left the question - why wasn't she here? He realized now that he hadn't heard from her at all on Sunday - not at home or at the hospital.

Claire, he remembered the girl's name, dropped one of her books as she tried to edge past him on the pathway. He had to go down onto one knee to retrieve it for her. He handed it to her absent-mindedly still kneeling like a Victorian suitor promising his heart. She scurried away with a timid thank you and without raising her eyes to meet his. It was only then that it struck him how oddly she'd acted and how abruptly she'd left.

"Oh great! I'm scaring kids now." He got back to his feet with a disgusted sigh.

With Marissa absent he might as well head to class. He considered going to his locker in the Science Building to dump his extra books, but knew he wasn't up to making two trips across campus . The climb up the hill to his first class would be enough for right now. He set off with a lopsided smile. God, he had bad ideas sometimes!

****

Anna had a major complaint to register with Ryan Atwood and she intended to confront him with it before class. Accident or not, she couldn't believe that he would call Summer about the accident on Friday and not call her until Sunday. From her spot on the steps of the Nichol Building, she spotted him coming up the hill from the quadrangle. Her angry scowl softened into a frown of concern as she watched his progress. Ryan was moving very slowly. 

Anna walked down to meet him. As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he let the backpack on his shoulder slip to the ground and dropped onto, rather than sat on, the bench at its foot. Now she was worried.

"Well, you're a sight Ryan. Should you even be here today?" Anna hesitantly put out a hand to touch the large bruise discoloring the right side of his face.

"Hey, Anna." He flinched slightly as her fingers lightly brushed the skin. "This is nothing. I've looked worse before." He smiled for Anna's sake, a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. 

"So, what's the news about Seth?"

"He's doing pretty well. He'll be home from the hospital by the end of the week, and he'll have regular visiting hours starting today." At her relieved expression he hastened to add, "But I'd check with the hospital about that before you go up. Things are definitely looking up." The smile on Ryan's face was genuine and unstrained this time.

"You're a lucky man, Ryan Atwood. I had every intention of killing you this morning for calling Summer and forgetting to call me. I've had a change of heart, though." She gave him a wicked smile. "Killing you today would be too much like a mercy killing. Letting you live will be a much better punishment."

"You have no idea, Anna. Consider me punished." He gave her a quick look out of the corner of his eye and then leaned forward to pick up his backpack from where it had landed. 

She beat him to it and, using both hands, hefted it onto her shoulder.

"Hey, give me that. I can do it." He got to his feet slowly and reached for his backpack. 

Anna backed out of reach.

"Do you carry every book you own around all day?" She asked in disbelief as the weight of the bag caused the strap to cut into her shoulder. "Where'd this old thing come from? It smells like fish." She wrinkled her nose at the odor but only adjusted the pack on her shoulder to a more comfortable position. She made no effort to return it.

"I can't carry much in the new bag Kirsten bought so I use my old backpack on weekends. I had planned to do a lot of studying this weekend but…" He trailed off and then finished without thinking. "It was too far to walk to drop them off at my locker this morning so I just brought them all with me." Realizing his mistake, he snapped in irritation. "Just give it here, Anna."

She took another step back. "Never had a girl carry your books before, Chino? Guys are the same everywhere - all macho attitude and no common sense." This earned her a major frown. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. I'm starting up the stairs with this bag of bricks now, and I'll give it back to you whenever you catch up to me." With this she turned and headed up the staircase.

Ryan followed after her scowling but, even relieved of the weight of his pack, he wasn't able to reclaim it until they were a few steps from the door of their classroom and less than a minute before the second bell.

****

Tim Lockhart looked up from the book he was reading and checked the clock above the door. It was 30 seconds before the second bell and he wasn't surprised that Ryan hadn't made it to school today. The pileup on the freeway that he and Seth had gotten caught in on Friday had been major news over the weekend.

He was surprised and, he realized, disappointed that Anna wasn't in class yet. Well, maybe she'd luck out and get here before Ms. Lovell. He wasn't sure that he had ever heard of their teacher being late before but it was looking increasingly likely today.

He went back to his book and, just as the bell began to ring, heard the door open and close. There would be no ten-minute rule today -- Ms. Lovell made it after all. Tim checked ahead in his book and decided he had time to finish the chapter before she got herself organized. He'd found his place in the story when the chatter that filled the class was bludgeoned into silence like a steer in a slaughterhouse by a loud male voice.

"Damn, I thought we got rid of the little fag _and_ the car thief."

Tim's head snapped up and he saw Ryan and Anna in the aisle, halfway to the back row they shared with him. Ryan, in the lead, had stopped. His backpack, off his shoulder, was gripped in his left hand and he was swinging around, right fist clenched, with a grim expression made worse by his bruising.

Anna jabbed Ryan hard in the ribs, which produced a noticeable wince. She followed up with a shove and a sneering comment that was loud enough for the whole class to hear. "Forget it, Chino. He's not worth the trouble." She waited for him to move, then whispered, "Ryan, please! Just keep moving."

Ryan met Anna's eyes for a beat before looking away. He took a deep breath, and slowly unclenched his fist. Ryan stood for a moment studying the backs of his silent classmates. They were very obviously avoiding looking at Anna and him. Finally, with a shake of his head, he made his way to the back of the classroom and his seat. The scrape of Ryan's chair as he pulled it out signaled the start of a subdued buzz of conversation. 

Ryan slumped in his chair, chin resting on his chest, legs stretched out in front of him, staring at his feet. His hands played absently with a pencil.

Tim couldn't think of anything to say to Ryan that didn't sound lame. Everyone at Harbor knew Ryan's history, but Tim had thought the animosity would fade as people got to know him in class and as one of the school's athletes. He'd more than held his own in his classes. No one accused Ryan of being at Harbor because of Mrs. Cohen's money any more.

Ryan's success on the Pirates soccer team should have won over the beer-and-sweat-sock crowd. He'd brought a solid, methodical, and selfless style to the striker position that melded smoothly with Luke's aggressive, high-risk, flashier style. With assists from Ryan, Luke led the conference in goals and was on his way to a league record for goals in a season.

Maybe it was that Ryan's contribution to the team was too subtle to appreciate, but anyone who understood the game knew what he'd added to the Pirates. They also knew why Ryan was the third leading scorer in the league.

Tim looked to Anna for help. She was staring at Ryan intently with no pretense of casualness in her face. Tim caught her eye and spread his hands in a questioning gesture. If Anna had a suggestion to offer, it died along with the buzz of conversation in the class, cut off by the entry of a young man carrying a stack of files and books. Anna shrugged and with a final worried glance at Ryan directed her attention to the front of the classroom.

****

English Comp, Ryan's first period, was normally one of the good periods of the day. Ms Lovell, the teacher, was okay and Anna was in the class. This had formerly meant one friendly face with which to start the day. 

Tim Lockhart, a teammate from soccer, was the only other person in the class who acknowledged his presence there. Some of the class ignored him - the rest made sure he knew how welcome he was at Harbor. He now had twelve toy models of the car that Trey stole in August, a T-shirt from Chino H.S., and a wanted poster with his picture on it.

Tim was okay, both in and out of the classroom. He'd always treated Ryan fairly and given him the benefit of the doubt. He'd never displayed the condescension, suspicion, or hostility that Ryan had run into with so many others around school.

When Ryan asked about Tim, Seth filled him in on campus gossip. Seth was adept at eavesdropping on other people's conversations. Appearances to the contrary, Seth could be quiet and listen when he chose because he was like old wallpaper, familiar and, therefore, invisible and unnoticed. By keeping a low profile Seth heard lots and knew far more about his fellow students at Harbor than any of them would have guessed.

Of course, some times the conversations he'd overheard concerned Seth Cohen and the things said had hurt - hurt as much as any of the humiliating pranks he'd endured over the years. Some of these he turned into jokes on himself and shared with Ryan. Ryan knew that there were other things that Seth might never confide to him.

Tim and Seth had been together at Harbor since grade school. He and Seth weren't friends; but Tim had never participated in any of the indignities visited upon Seth by his other classmates. Tim had grown quieter and more withdrawn since his older brother died in a car crash the previous summer. The talk around school at the time had been that Richie was bombed at the time of the accident. Tim stopped doing the party scene the same summer. Now, Tim no longer seemed to be a member of any of the campus cliques.

Seth declared that for a Harbor student, Tim was relatively normal - high praise from Cohen. He explained this by postulating that Tim was a human changeling taken by the pod people and raised as one of their own. Seth also claimed that further proof of this could be found in Tim's dad, Paul Lockhart. Seth had seen Mr. Lockhart occasionally at business parties Kirsten had hosted at home. He was a big man with dirty blond hair and a voice that boomed, but never seemed happy; nothing like his dark, lanky son, who excelled at distance races and whose passion was cross-country. 

Ryan took all of this to be Seth's way of saying that Tim was one of the few classmates, male or female, that Seth would have liked to get to know. Had Seth ever developed the skill necessary to carry on a normal conversation, one that didn't consist of a string of one-liners and non sequiturs that left the party on the receiving end dazed and confused, that might have happened.

Ryan knew that Tim went his own way. It had been Tim, one of the soccer team's veterans, who had unexpectedly taken the lead in killing the plan cooked up to remove Luke as captain last fall. Tim wanted to be able to play and enjoy soccer without a tangle of meaningless distractions. He seemed to try to be fair to everyone. Ryan didn't know him well enough to call him a friend, but he thought he might be one day.

Somehow, at the beginning of the semester, the three of them found themselves occupying the last two tables in Ms. Lovell's English Comp class – Ryan and Tim on the right and Anna on the left. Ms. Lovell believed in allowing her students to find their own uniquely, _right_ seat in her class. Being an old flower child at a button down prep school, it was one of her many small acts of rebellion against conformity. 

****

The young man standing in front of Ryan seemed scarcely older than the students facing him. His name was Mr. Snyder and he'd be replacing Ms. Lovell for the next two months until she recovered from her surgery.

In Ryan's experience change, especially unexpected change, almost always resulted in something bad happening. You couldn't prepare yourself - harden yourself - for surprises. Outside the classroom, surprises had too often meant pain either physical or emotional for him. Ryan shook his head and noticed Anna smiling at him. He fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her.

"Chill, Chino. How bad can this puppy be? We'll paper train him. You'll see." She whispered to him from across the aisle. Ryan quickly found out what the sub had in mind – as the puppy continued.

"I didn't have time to review Ms. Lovell's lesson plan, however, I did review the syllabus for this class." This statement provoked some nervous mutters from the students. "Your final exam will be in two parts: the first day will cover the readings in your textbook and the second day will be an essay, with the topic to be assigned on the time of the exam."

The new guy had been here five minutes and nothing bad had happened so far, Ryan thought. He wasn't sure where this was going but he knew there was a shoe somewhere waiting to drop.

"So, today, to help me get to know all of you and to give you practice in writing an extemporaneous essay, I'd like you to each write a personal essay on the topic, How I Spent My Summer Vacation." The groans this statement elicited were punctuated by the crack of a pencil snapping in two.

Ryan stared down at the pieces of pencil in his hand. He didn't have to look up to know that people were sneaking glances his way. He could picture their amused smiles as they all wondered what the car thief from Chino would put in his essay. To avoid their smirks, he kept his head down as he pulled paper and a pen from his backpack under the table.

Ryan stared at the blank piece of paper. He hadn't even written his name on it yet when a female voice, he should've known but didn't recognize, spoke up.

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Snyder." The voice came from his left.

"Yes . . . Miss Stern, do you have a question?" Mr. Snyder came around from behind the desk carrying Ms. Lovell's seating chart and leaned against the front edge of the desk.

Anna, who was wearing her usual short skirt, stood with a considerable display of leg and stepped into the aisle. "I was hoping you could give me a little more information about the essay you want us to write. What's going to happen after we turn it in?" Her voice was a breathy one Ryan had never heard her use in or out of class. Had he not known better, he would've thought she was flirting with the puppy.

"I'll grade it and return it to you." Mr. Snyder's expression was puzzled. "What did you think I'd do with them?"

Anna held a pen in her right hand that she slowly slid between the thumb and index finger of her left hand. "I just wanted to make sure that we weren't going to have to read our essays to the class or anything embarrassing like that. I want to be frank in my paper, but I sailed to Tahiti this summer with friends and there are some details that I just wouldn't want to share with the class. I'm sure I could trust your discretion. You're a teacher, after all."

Anna glanced over at the boy's table. Ryan and Tim were staring at her with expressions that she hoped indicated male, teenage disbelief. She couldn't believe that she was doing this either. As she watched she thought she saw a light go on in one of their faces. Interesting, cute and smart.

Tim thought the word simpering was only used to describe the speech of vaporous and vacuous heroines in bad 19th century novels. So, why was no-nonsense-tell-it-like-it-is Anna-Ms.-Steeltown-Stern simpering? Then he got it. She was trying to help Ryan. By humiliating herself this way, she deflected people's thoughts away from Ryan and his history but still got him the answers he needed. Any guy on campus could tell you she was pretty; and a few days in class with her was enough for the brains to show; but Anna was a good person who was showing her decency in front of the whole class and only two of them got it.

"No, Miss Stern. This essay is a classroom exercise. You'll be graded on it but you won't be sharing it with the class."

"Thank you so much for making that clear, Mr. Snyder. I'm sure we'll all enjoy having you as our substitute," Anna gushed as she settled herself into her chair.

The sub turned his attention away from Anna to another student's question with a visible effort. Ryan thought he saw color in the puppy's cheek. That was when he realized what Anna had done. She'd asked those questions for him because she knew he wouldn't ask them. He shot her a quick, grateful look. The paper, however, still lay before him as blank as when he pulled it out of his notebook. He saw his classmates working on their essays. Essays that he knew recounted European vacations with their parents, summers of sun and sand here in Newport, or summer jobs spent in one of daddy's companies. 

He watched as the second hand of the clock over the door swept around the face unable to decide how to start his own essay. He had to turn in something, anything. Out of the corner of his right eye he saw Tim's arm slowly rise.

"Mr. Snyder, one more question." In Ryan's experience, Tim talked even less than he did. 

"How many points is the essay worth toward our final grade? Will it be substituted for one of the other essay assignments on the syllabus or are we doing it for extra points? It wouldn't be fair for it to be anything but bonus points." 

Ryan glanced at him in surprise. Why would Tim care? Ryan had never seen any of his papers come back with anything lower than a B+. 

"You're correct . . .." Mr. Snyder consulted the seating chart. "Mr. Lockhart. This essay can only boost your grade; it won't have a negative effect on anyone's grade. Class, I would suggest you get started, if you haven't already. You have fifty minutes left." The substitute walked around the desk and settled into the swivel chair behind it.

Tim, who'd appeared to give the sub his complete attention during his answer, turned back to the paper on his desk and resumed writing. After a couple of seconds, he lifted his head and met Ryan's curious stare with a wink and, seeming to catch sight of something beyond Ryan, a shy smile before turning back to his paper. 

Ryan looked to his left and saw Anna, head down, writing furiously, with a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"So, I guess I have two friends in this class." Ryan thought. Focusing on the paper on his desk, he picked up his pen and wrote:

__

My New Life

By Ryan Atwood

August 7th, 2003, was the day I got arrested

Going along with my brother, Trey, that night was the dumbest thing I ever did. Going along with my brother that night was the best thing that ever happened to me. August 7th, 2003, was the first day of my new life….

He wrote quickly, mentally sorting the details of his summer in Newport into categories: necessary to tell, okay to tell, probably shouldn't tell, can't tell, and too painful or embarrassing to tell. Once he'd gotten started, he found it easy to write about the summer of 2003 and his new life – there was a lot to tell.

****

Tim had finished and gone on to his next class by the time Ryan finished his essay and turned it in. He found Anna waiting for him at the entrance to the building. 

"Thanks for that."

"What did I do, Ryan?" Anna imitated one of his trademark head-down-glance-out-of-the- eye glances.

Ryan chuckled. "You know what you guys did. You and Tim helped me keep it together in there. I owe you both big, but I'll have to thank Tim in PE this afternoon. Why are you still hanging around? You'll be late for your next class."

"I'm waiting to carry your books." She smiled prettily, but Ryan could hear determination in her voice.

"Allow a guy some dignity, Anna." Her smile didn't change but her eyes narrowed. "What about your reputation – first Seth and now me?" 

"Reputation? I just channeled Summer Roberts and flirted with a geek in tweed in front of a class of morons. I'll be lucky if there's not a big red A painted on my locker by morning. I'm from Pittsburgh. I wasn't registered at Harbor while still in the womb. I was Seth Cohen's girl friend for three weeks, for pity's sake" She laughed. "I have no hope of getting in with the crowd that cares about that kind of thing."

"So, Chino, you're saying you can manage all on your own? Don't need any help from anyone?" She put her hands on her hips and gave him a thorough once over. "So, I'm supposed to ignore the "Night of the Living Dead" look and let you do your thing?" She cocked her head. "What would you do if you were in my position and Seth needed help?"

Ryan stared down at his feet. "I'd tell him to give me his damn books and get over it. He'd probably say everyone called him a fag anyway so he might as well let me carry his books and confirm their suspicions. His rep couldn't get any worse, so what the hell."

"And, what about your rep, Chino?" She asked sweetly, turning the knife ever so gently.

Ryan sighed and handed over the backpack. "You can have them as far as the Science Building. But only because that's where my locker is and because we both have classes there."

He looked down at his watch and groaned. "Classes which start in fifteen minutes. You lead the way. I'll follow."

As Anna started down the stairs, she heard Ryan mutter under his breath. "Maybe people won't think we're together."


	6. 9:15 am

A BAD MONDAY

9:15 am

Anna rested on one of the cement benches along the facade of the Science Building. She'd never noticed all the hills and short flights of steps around Harbor until she crossed campus weighted down with Ryan's books. The ramp up to the terrace where she sat now had never registered on her consciousness before. She saw Ryan heading for the same ramp rather than taking the more direct way up the stairs. Even relieved of his books, he moved more slowly than when she'd first seen him this morning. 

Anna reached up to massage the shoulder that had carried his backpack and then squared her shoulders. Chino needed another dose of tough love; and since Marissa wasn't around to supply it, she guessed it was up to her. She didn't remember seeing any "stand by your man" moments in Ryan and Marissa's relationship. She wondered if there had been any. 

Ryan arrived at the top of the ramp and walked hesitantly toward her. He was pale, making the shadows under his eyes darker and the pain lines more pronounced. "You see I made it."

"Sit down, Chino. We've got a few minutes. Talk to me." She wore her determined, no nonsense expression.

Ryan eased himself down onto the bench beside her with a wary expression. "About what?"

"About why you're here today and not at home or the hospital. Don't tell me you're not hurting. What's wrong with you? You told me yesterday that you just had some scrapes and bruises." She held his eyes until he finally turned away from her and looked out across the campus.

"It is just scrapes and bruises." At her skeptical expression he sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall of the building. "It _is_ just scrapes and bruises." He repeated with more emphasis. "Only…" He paused and started again. "A resident in the ER Friday offered an analogy to try to help me understand what happened." 

Ryan smiled wryly, his eyes still closed. "He said my experience could be compared to going through a paint mixer. You lock a can into a machine that shakes the can violently until the paint is thoroughly mixed. I was lucky; Seth wasn't. I went through that shaking process and came out with a _lot_ of bruising - _deep_ bruising that isn't all visible." At Anna's expression, he added. "But, it still amounts to just scrapes and bruises. Nothing life threatening."

"Basically you're telling me that your body was shaken violently and repeatedly over a period of -- oh -- ten minutes but you're fine." She shook her head. "And you're here, why?" 

"I went over this with Sandy this morning. I have a history test today that I have to take." Ryan grabbed one of the backpack's straps and started pulling it toward him.

Anna placed her hand over his and stopped him. "Are you taking anything for pain?" When Ryan didn't answer she rolled her eyes. "Okay, did they give you anything for pain?"

"Yeah, some pain pills and some other stuff. Sandy dropped some off at the nurse's office this morning for later, if I need them."

"Did you take anything this morning?" Anna didn't think Ryan would lie to her if she asked him a direct question. 

"I took some Tylenol." He muttered.

"Damn, Chino!"

"I don't like pain pills. When I take them, I don't feel like I'm in control – of my words, my actions. I hate the feeling of not being in control! Besides…"

Anna finished for him. "…you've got a test to take. I got that." She made a disgusted sound. "When is this, oh so important, test?"

"It's right after lunch."

"Are you going home then? Do you need a ride?" She watched him closely.

"No, I'm finishing out the day. Sandy's picking me up after school to take me up to see Seth."

"Why are you staying after your test? You should leave then." 

Ryan concentrated on readjusting the straps on his backpack before answering. "I'm staying because that's what I told Sandy I was doing this morning."

"That's the dumbest reason I've ever heard." Anna exploded. "Did you share that wonderful paint metaphor with Sandy and Kirsten?"

Ryan didn't meet her eyes and tightened his grip on the strap. "They talked to the same doctors in the ER that I did. They know what happened. They've got enough to think about with Seth without having them worry about me." He narrowed his eyes. "We had a deal, Anna. Remember?" 

Anna released her grip on the backpack and Ryan pulled it to him. He swung it around, up, and onto his shoulder as he got to his feet.

"I'll walk you to your locker, Ryan." Anna stood, brushed off her skirt, and then slipped her arm through Ryan's.

* * *

Summer needed to get to the Science Building; but, since she hated to sweat except at the beach, she would only walk as quickly as her new shoes would allow. She'd hoped to catch Ryan when he came out of English, but the dork of a substitute said the class got out early today. Summer was angry with herself and she didn't like the feeling. She'd missed Ryan before he left for school and again before his first period class and she needed him today. 

"It's all his fault." She muttered to herself and the world immediately made sense to her again. "If it hadn't been for him, Marissa wouldn't need help and I wouldn't be running around campus in new shoes and a bad mood. He'll come up with a plan - he owes it to me."

Why did Nana's 70th birthday party have to be in San Francisco, on Sunday, and, the unfairest thing of all, why did Nana have to have all the _real_ money in the family. If Summer had been in town on Saturday it might have made a difference; but not going, even after Seth's accident, had never been an option. 

Being there, being the attentive granddaughter kept you on Nana's good side and in her will. StepMom2 never tired of reminding her that it was important with her Dad out of town for the two of them be there to keep Nana happy. It wasn't an awful party. Nana always picked a top restaurant for her party and never spared any expense in treating herself; some of Summer's cousins weren't total losers, and Nana always gave out presents on her birthday. Now that Summer had graduated in Nana's eyes to adult presents this was seriously interesting.

Summer shook her wrist, jingling the coins dangling from her gold bracelet. Nana had a sense of tradition and humor. Instead of yet another teddy bear to add to the collection that threatened to squeeze Summer out of her own bedroom, Nana had given her a bracelet hung with golden pandas from China. She looked at the coins shining in the bright California sun and made a mental note to herself to point out to Seth that there was plenty of room for more coins when he needed an idea for a present. Gold would definitely be better than those awful CD's he insisted on buying her. Thank God he hadn't started buying her comic books yet! How to select appropriate presents for her was just one more area she had to add to her list of things that needed to be changed about Seth to make him the perfect Summer boyfriend.

Summer looked at her watch as she approached the steps in front of the Science Building. She thought Ryan had a free period now and usually used it to study. If she'd ever paid attention to Marissa when she talked about Ryan, maybe she'd know where to look. She'd had her own relationship problems this semester -- the whole Seth/Anna thing to set straight. How could she be expected to keep track of Marissa's boyfriend and his life? She had some time before her biology class to find him and give him the news. He'd know what to do.

* * *

As they walked down the corridor, Anna watched Ryan out of the corner of her eye. He carried himself stiffly but didn't show anything on his face. He was in her opinion a dammed, stiff-necked fool for being here, for not taking his medication, for just everything. It made her want to punch him – hard, but instead she held onto his arm and walked him down the hall.

"I suppose you're going to use your free period to study for that stupid test?" At Ryan's nod she gave a resigned sigh. "In that case you should go out into the courtyard we just passed. It's quiet and there's lots of sun. It might make you feel better."

Ryan's locker was around the corner from Anna's biology class. He piled everything except his history book and notebook into it before closing the door with a relieved sigh.

When Ryan turned back to her, Anna impulsively put her arms around his waist and gave him a gentle hug. "Damn, I'm afraid I'll hurt you if I squeeze too hard. Did I hurt you when I poked you back in English?" She looked up at him and watched as his expression changed from surprise to amusement.

"I've taken harder blows than that from Seth." With a smile he closed his arms around her and returned the hug. 

* * *

Where was Ryan? This was becoming a major aggravation. She didn't have time to track him all over campus. She'd checked the central lounge in the Science Building and two unoccupied classrooms and had yet to find him. The small courtyard near the biology lab was the last place she had time to check before her next class. 

It was just like him, never where he was needed. She wondered why he was even at school today. If he was such a good friend to Seth, why wasn't he at the hospital? She hoped it meant that Seth was doing better. But how was she supposed to know? The receptionist at the hospital, who sounded overweight and desperate, wouldn't put a call through to Seth this morning. Then, Marie, the nurse on Seth's floor, (She assumed she was female based solely on the name since her voice was deeper than Summer's father's) wouldn't give out any information on Mr. Cohen's condition to a non-relative. Ryan should have left a message for her last night about Seth or he should have left his cell phone on. He had to know she'd want to know about Seth as soon as she got back. She didn't understand how he could be so inconsiderate of her feelings. 

All the rushing about was definitely starting to make Summer feel icky; but the courtyard she needed to check was only two classrooms past her biology class. As she turned the corner into the hallway leading to her class and the courtyard, she breathed a sigh of relief -- Ryan! Ryan was standing in the hallway talking to Anna and then she saw Anna put her arms around him. Summer stopped and watched.

* * *

"You remember what I said, Ryan. If you need a ride home," She looked up and saw his expression. "Okay, or to the hospital, after your test, I'll take you. I'm in journalism that period. I can get away. Just come and get me."

"I'll remember and thanks for everything." Saying that Ryan drew her closer. They stood for a moment two friends holding onto each other. "Anna, I'm sorry that it didn't work out with Seth."

Anna sighed and let her head rest against Ryan's chest. She could hear the sound of his heart even over the noises in the hallway. His heartbeat was like him: strong, steady, constant. She felt some of the stiffness in his body relax as she held on to him. He released her and stepped back, an embarrassed expression on his face.

Anna ignored it and smiling brightly said, "Good thank you, Ryan!"

He returned her smile before gesturing with his book toward her classroom. "You need to get to class and I need to study " Then with an impish expression, he placed a hand on her arm and leaned forward to whisper softly in her ear. "Besides, I wouldn't want to make Tim jealous."

She looked at him blankly for a moment and then he saw a slight flush spread into her cheeks. "Tim Lockhart hasn't said six things to me since the semester started. You're delusional, Atwood!"

"He hasn't said much more to me and we're on the same soccer team and in a class together. But you know what they say, it's always the quiet ones." With a broad grin on his face, he watched her turn and walk rapidly away.

* * *

Ryan walked past the biology lab and out into the courtyard. He stood for a moment considering whether or not to take Anna's advice and let the springtime California sun bake away some of his aches. The warmth of the sun on his face turned into an Arctic gale as a voice from behind him interrupted his thoughts.

"Well, that was a touching moment – so sweet. You and your girlfriend sharing a moment between classes." Summer was watching him from the doorway with a little pout of confusion on her face. "Oh, but she's not your girlfriend, is she, Chino?" 

"Hey, Summer. What?" Ryan stared at her in surprise.

Summer's pose of casual indifference slipped. It was replaced by anger that seemed to shimmer around her like a visible aura. "Seth told me you were a player, but I guess there's not enough water in Newport to wash away the dirt and stink of Chino." She wrinkled her nose as though offended by an odor as she walked into the sunlight. "I saw you kiss Anna, Chino! Have you been taking lessons from your friend Luke on juggling girls?" Now she was in Ryan's face. Her words grew colder but she never allowed her voice to lose its conversational tone. No one passing in the hallway just feet away would ever guess what was happening.

Ryan blinked at her in confusion. "Lessons? Marissa forgave Luke. They're friends again." He shook his head. "I'm not a player, Summer. Seth exaggerates everything; and I didn't kiss…" He was interrupted by Summer's mocking laugh.

"I know what I saw!" Summer insisted.

"You saw wrong. I was thanking Anna for being a friend." 

"Is that how you thank all your friends, Chino? What makes her such a _special_ friend?" She loaded the word special with extra emphasis. Her narrowed eyes and cynical expression left little doubt as to what she thought made Anna a special friend.

"It's not like that. She's not like that! I thought you were friends now. Why would you say that? She helped me…" 

Summer interrupted him. "Oh let me guess – with your homework, a ride to the IMAX, apply ointment to your bruises. Oh, I bet that's it!" She clapped her hands like a small child delighted to have gotten the correct answer in a contest. "She helped you with all your little aches and pains." Her words were little shards of glass with which she worked at slicing away tiny pieces of the new Ryan. Each time she spoke she planted another poisoned sliver of doubt. "You're just a little hustler, who tried to con his way off the streets into the good life. Before you know it, you'll be out on the streets alone or back in juvie entertaining the big boys again." Summer laughed at his expression of bafflement

Ryan stretched his hand out toward her but Summer slapped it away. "Keep your hands to yourself. I'm not one of your Chino bitches. That's not how we do it here."

Ryan looked at his hand and then at Summer in disbelief. He'd only intended to interrupt her, to try to get her to slow down, to listen, and she had misunderstood - thought he wanted to hurt her. Ryan began backing slowly away from her.

"Summer, I…" Again she cut him off.

"I told Marissa you were trouble. A little short but maybe good for some sex if she wanted to go slumming but nothing else, and I was right. Marissa's had nothing but misery since you showed up. Now, on account of you, her mom's shipped her off to the funny farm in San Diego."

Summer's accusations came piling one on top of the other, threatening to break him apart like the vehicles that had slammed into the Rover three days ago. He was being whipsawed back and forth but her last words brought things back into focus. 

"What do you mean Marissa's gone? What's my fault?" Ryan managed to cut through her stream of words.

"It's simple, Chino. Marissa started drinking on Friday when she first heard from you about the accident. I thought she'd stop when we knew you guys would be okay but she kept drinking right on through the weekend. I had to go up to San Francisco on Saturday and didn't get back until last night. No one was here to stop her, dammit."

"Marissa was supposed to be babysitting Caitlin, but her sister found her passed out by the pool Sunday morning and called their mom. Julie came home from Palm Springs, sobered her up enough to get her into a car, and drove her to the clinic in San Diego run by that doctor who was here after Tijuana. I got all this from Jimmy who's at Julie's taking care of Caitlin. She's still down there with Marissa, not taking any calls or letting any calls through to Marissa. I don't know what's happening!" Summer stamped her foot like a petulant child.

"I thought you could help me get her out like last time but you obviously have your mind somewhere else. So you see, Chino, whatever happens to Marissa will be your fault. You're the reason she's in the shape she is now. You're the reason she started drinking" Summer said this with satisfaction as she watched the play of emotions across his face. 

Ryan raised his head and stared at her his eyes bleak and lonely. He'd played out this scene too often in the past and didn't feel like sugarcoating the truth for Summer. "Alcoholics don't need reasons to drink. They only need excuses."

The crack of Summer's hand hitting Ryan's face was startlingly loud within the confined space of the courtyard. "She's not an alcoholic! You wouldn't say that if you loved her." With that Summer turned and stormed out of the courtyard.

Ryan stood in the courtyard rubbing his cheek. He bent down and picked up the books he'd dropped when Summer slapped him. He looked at them for a minute as though not recognizing them and then walked slowly over to a bench, one full in the sun, and sat down.

Ryan sat hunched forward, his hands clasped together, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the orderly pattern made by the paving stones spreading out away from the bench. He felt cold. All he needed was for the sun to warm him and he knew he'd stop shaking.


	7. 12:30 pm

A.N. Thanks again to Lisa for making my writing better than it was originally. She is not at all responsible for those instances where I have inadvertently strayed from the true canon as revealed in the episodes of the series over the last few months. My theory is that it's better to be consistent internally than to worry about contradicting the series in relatively small matters. You can be sure that she has pointed these errors out to me. Since Anna left Newport in last night's episode, I suppose this story is now mildly AU.

A Bad Monday

12:30 p.m.

The midday California sun blinded Luke as he came out of the Student Union Building. As he waited for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, he enjoyed the warmth that had collected in the courtyard. He knew it was unlikely that he'd find an empty table or anyone willing to let him join them for lunch, but he hated the idea of going back inside on a day like this. So, he scanned the patio for a vacant table or a friendly face. The arm that rammed into his back drove home just how unlikely the latter was.

"Move it! You're blocking the door, bitch."

Cursing under his breath, he regained his balance and turned, throwing a scowl at the three guys in Harbor T-shirts waiting for him to move. _God, it was never just one! Why didn't they ever have the guts to say something when they weren't in a pack?_ He bit back a retort and stepped aside to let the three pass. They swaggered by, giving him appraising looks on their way to a table of girls nearby. The laughter coming from the girls and the looks they cast his way left no doubt that he was the butt of some joke. With a sigh he decided that, no matter what, he wasn't going back into the student union.

As he expected, there were no empty tables, but was there anyone he could sit with? He checked out the tables on the patio and found no welcome. People either ignored him or gave him the "look" - the blank, cold, unfriendly mask most Harbor students turned his way, which was the face of Harbor School that Luke had gotten to know this year. 

A quick check of the courtyard's upper terrace revealed no empty tables; however, a slower appraisal showed one occupied table he could join. Rather than taking the long way and avoiding the patio where most students were eating, he chose the most direct route past the table occupied by his fan club. He walked slowly and purposefully, watchful at each step for a foot to suddenly block his path as he made his way across the patio to the nearest steps.

There was only one person seated at the table he was aiming for and its occupant, his head pillowed by his arms, appeared to be asleep. Luke balanced his tray in one hand and attempted to pull the heavy chair out with the other. The chair proved to be heavier than he had anticipated and its legs gave off a metallic screech as he dragged them across the tiles. The sleeper didn't stir. He set the tray down carefully and, using two hands this time, pulled the chair up to the table quietly. The table's uneven legs, made it rock violently when he placed his arm on it.

***

The tires squealed as Seth applied the brakes and Ryan saw that the Rover wouldn't miss the mass of mangled cars and trucks that had appeared so suddenly out of the fog. He braced himself for the impact; but when it came, the jolt was softer than it should have been. There was a moment of confusion and then he was no longer caught in the dream. His blond head came up and his bleary, blue eyes peered around sleepily before fixing on the person seated across the table.

"Sorry, man, I tried not to wake you." Luke took in the paleness, the half-lidded eyes, and the large bruise that discolored much of the left side of Ryan's face. When Summer cornered him this morning to give him the news about Marissa and to rage at Ryan, she hadn't said anything about how bad the guy looked. He wondered if, in her anger, she had even noticed.

Ryan brushed the hair out of his eyes and blinked away the fatigue and the memories that the sound and jolt had awakened for him. _Taking a nap had been a bad idea_. The warmth of the sun and the pain pill he'd taken before lunch had combined with his history book to produce a cocktail guaranteed to induce sleep. "That's okay. I was having a bad dream anyway." He stretched carefully before picking a french-fry off his plate. He took a bite and dropped the cold, unappetizing remains to the plate. He opened his history book and tried to find the next chapter that he needed to review before his test.

"You still studying? If you don't know it by now, man, you should just hang it up." Luke took a bite out of one of the hamburgers on his plate. He reached across the table and flipped Ryan's history book closed with his free hand. "The test is in like half an hour. You can't learn anything in half an hour, dude! So chill." 

Ryan started to reopen the book but Luke pulled it away from him. 

"Is any of that the result of your run in with Summer this morning?" The hand holding Luke's fast disappearing burger gestured in the general direction of Ryan's face. 

Ryan reached up and rubbed his cheek as Luke leaned forward to inspect his injuries more closely. 

"I don't see fresh blood or new bruises forming," Luke continued thoughtfully. "So, I take it that there weren't any sharp instruments or blunt objects involved during your talk with her?" He settled back with a grin. "You lucked out, dude! Don't think you're Summer's first victim at Harbor. If they put up crosses around campus to all the guys who were on the receiving end of one of Summer's tantrums, like they do for car accidents, the campus would look like a friggin cemetery."

Luke reached for his juice as Ryan took another fry, looked at it, and then set it back on his plate. "Hey man, those must be cold by now; have some of mine." Luke pushed half his fries onto Ryan's plate. He surveyed the untouched sandwich on Ryan's tray and the pile of old fries that had only a couple missing. "Looks like you don't have much of an appetite today. What's up with that?"

Ryan ignored his question. As if to prove Luke wrong, he took a couple of the new fries, dipped them in ketchup, and popped them into his mouth "Thanks. Summer told you what happened to Marissa?"

"Yeah. She told me what you said and she wanted me to do something."

"And…" Ryan felt very tired as he waited for Luke's answer.

"I told her you were right. Marissa's sick and maybe getting help somewhere away from Newport is what she needs. Her first therapist was a quack or she'd never have fallen for Oliver's line; and if she used your accident to get shitfaced, then her new one wasn't doing any better." Luke was as serious as Ryan had ever seen him. "I told Summer she should drop it and let Julie - Mrs. Cooper - do what was best for Marissa.

Ryan ignored Luke's slip. "She accepted that?" His voice betrayed his disbelief.

"I'm still alive to tell the tale, man. She must have emptied all her venom sacs into you." Luke smiled as he said it but then turned serious again. "I guess none of us was here for Marissa this weekend. I took my brothers to see dad. It's the first time mom let 'em stay overnight, but she wouldn't let 'em go alone. I had to be there."

"That's a good sign, right? How did it go?" Ryan hoped these were safe questions.

"Yeah, the folks settled the money stuff real fast but the custody and visitation issues have been harder. They seem to drag on and on. Me, I'm so close to 18 Mom lets me decide what I want to do and they don't argue. It's different for Eric and Brad. I hope this trip means mom is ready to move on."

"As for the visit, it was a little awkward at first but the guys settled down and the weekend went great. Dad got courtside seats for the Lakers for Friday and he spent the whole weekend doing stuff with us. It was way more time than we used to get with him before…" Luke didn't finish the thought. "The boys haven't had the same trouble as I've had in school. The kids down in Harbor Middle and Elementary haven't bothered them much. For them, it's just not having dad around that's so hard." Luke paused and looked at the burger still in his hand. "Dad even got a babysitter and took me to a party Saturday night."

Ryan looked up from his notebook and inquired _too_ innocently. "Did he find you a date?" 

"Yeah!" Luke said with enthusiasm before noticing Ryan's expression. "The daughter of his sales manager, butthead!" 

Ryan smiled and dodged a french-fry aimed at his head. 

"Enough with the studying." Luke snatched the notebook out from under Ryan's arm before he could protect it. "How's Seth? How are you and what the hell are you doing here today?"

"Seth's good. He'll be going home in a few days. Me? I came out of the accident okay - just some scrapes and bruises. I'm here today, right?" Ryan hoped Luke wouldn't run into Anna. "I came in for our history test." Ryan wondered which of the arguments he'd already heard would be repeated.

Luke's response surprised him. "If your grade's that bad in history, I guess you know what you're doing. Mr. O'Connell's makeup tests are a bitch. They're like twice as hard as the original test, and the highest grade he ever gives on a makeup is a B. So, you're going home after the test - right? Coach will hate that you're missing practice; but hell, you look like you took on Del Vista all by yourself this time." He shook his head, then smiled. "You always were on the lookout for ways to get out of doing laps. I know you hate always being at the back of the pack - you with your short legs." 

"Oh, yeah, and who's running alongside me at the back of the pack?" Ryan asked.

"That was Tim's idea. He thought you could use our company and frankly you guys are better company than…" Luke stopped, tensing as he prepared to dodge any objects that might come his way from Ryan's side of the table. To his surprise, instead of food or cutlery, Ryan held out his hand to him. Warily, alert for traps, Luke took his hand. 

"We're even, Luke. I shouldn't have made that dumb joke about your date. Sorry." Ryan didn't know if he preferred Luke thinking he was failing history to him telling him he was an idiot for coming to school today for a test. He did know that Luke didn't deserve having jokes made about his dad, even oblique ones.

Luke released Ryan's hand and frowned. "God, Ryan, what's with the hand of ice? Are you okay?"

"It's nothing. I can't seem to get warm today." Ryan shrugged and put his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. 

"Is that why you still have your sweatshirt on when everyone else is down to their shirt sleeves?

Ryan's attention was drawn away from Luke by the attention he was attracting from some guys at a table on the patio. "I think my fanclub wants some attention."

"Fanclub, what are you talking about?" Luke asked confused by Ryan's statement.

"There's a table of guys down on the patio that have been staring at me for a while. Two of the them are in my English Comp class; and I think one of them had something to say to me in class this morning." At Luke's raised eyebrows he added. "Nothing happened. Anna played peacemaker. But, those guys seem awfully interested in me."

"Is it three guys, all in Harbor t-shirts, at a table with a couple of girls?" Luke asked. At Ryan's agreement, Luke frowned at the possibilities. "I don't think it's only you that they're interested in. I had a little run-in with 'em a while ago on the patio. They seemed to think I was taking up too much space." 

Ryan looked puzzled. 

"Too much space - like just being alive, I take up too much space." 

Ryan nodded "Do you want to do something about 'em?" 

Luke looked at Ryan in astonishment. "Do you? I'm not going to be the one who explains to Mrs. Cohen why she's got two kids in the hospital. Besides, I thought you took the pledge?" His question was met by a blank stare. "You promised Dr. Kim no more fighting at school, remember? Seth said you were working toward your six-month coin, just like in NA only without the meetings."

Ryan looked down and swept some crumbs only he could see off the top of the table. "Yeah, you're right." Glancing up and past Luke he saw that the table with their friends was empty now. "They've left anyway. Can I have my notebook back now?"

Luke shook his head and placed his arm very conspicuously on top of the book and notebook. "Like I said, you need to give all that studying time to settle before the test. It seems to me that what you should be doing now is studying for the SATs that are coming up. My folks bought all these books and computer programs to help me study for them. I can loan them to you if you want.

Ryan stared down at his plate and then pushed the tray away. "Thanks for the offer, but I haven't decided if I'm going to take them again."

"Again? You took them as a sophomore? Big deal, so you take them again and improve your score. Lots of people do it. Chip's older brother took them six times and never cracked 1100. Was his old man ever pissed." Luke smiled at the memory. "Cohen said you were both signed up for the same day as me. Go for it! What have you got to lose?" Luke watched Ryan. He'd said nothing as Luke talked and given no indication that he'd heard anything Luke said. 

"I told them I didn't want to take them. They complain that I never talk to them but when I say something they don't like they don't hear me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ryan. If they're paid for, you should take them. If your score doesn't go up, you pretend it never happened. Why make a big deal about it? What's going on, Chino?"

Ryan smiled sourly and didn't meet Luke's eyes. People always called him Chino when he didn't act according to their notion of what was best for him. It was like they thought of him as two different people: Ryan, who obeyed the norms of Newport society and Chino, who did unpredictable, self-destructive, violent things. "They're a waste of my time; college, for me, isn't realistic; and even two good years at Harbor won't make up for the last two years. Finally, where would the money for college come from?" Ryan rattled off his answers rapidly as though he'd been rehearsing them to himself for a long time. 

Luke leaned back in his chair and considered Ryan's situation before replying. "The Cohens…." The look on Ryan's face made him hesitate. "They're paying a lot of money to send you here. They might pay for college, too." 

"How should I handle that, Luke?" Ryan asked. "Do I tell them I want to go to college and see if they offer to pay; or do I wait until I've been accepted somewhere and then hit them up for the cash? You're right. They're good people but they've never talked about what comes after . . . after I turn 18. They're only responsible until then. After that, I'm on my own. Maybe they don't think I'll make it here that long. Sometimes, _I_ don't think all this will last 'til I'm 18." He looked out toward the green hills and the ocean beyond. "They say I'm part of their family now and some days it feels like it's true. At other times, it feels like nothing has changed since Sandy first brought me home."

"You could just ask them." Luke offered hesitantly. 

The idea of Ryan initiating such a conversation left both of them quiet and thoughtful.

Finally, Ryan replied. "You mean I should say to them that I've been thinking about my future and wondering if they want to be a part of it? What if I'm afraid of what their answer will be? Can I even believe their answer if I hit them cold with the question? They might think it's about all this." Ryan made a sweeping gesture that seemed to take in everything about his new life. "Do I ask it anyway or go on like everything is cool?" Ryan's eyes were shiny and he rubbed at them with a fist as though tired. "God, I hate pain pills!"

Luke gave him a puzzled look.

"I stopped at the nurse's office before lunch to get one . . . Sandy left 'em for me. They just weird me out."

Luke stared at his friend and then decided to go for broke. "Man, you've got to talk to them – talk to Seth at least! You'll fry a circuit if you keep making yourself crazy with questions and doubts." He took a breath and continued. "My dad told me last fall that telling the truth and knowing the truth always make you feel better in the end. I didn't see then how that could be true. I think I do now. What you've got to do is talk to them, and then talk some more, and then, when you feel like you're going to puke your guts out if you say one more thing, talk some more."

Ryan smiled weakly and shook his head. "Luke, I don't think there're enough pain pills in the world."

Luke ignored his interruption. "If the Cohens don't know what's going on inside that thick skull of yours, they don't know what the problem is or even that there is a problem." Luke finally ran out of talk and stopped, both abashed and embarrassed by his outburst. He risked a look at Ryan's face and found an unreadable mask. 

The boys settled into an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Luke remarked. "Well, that's interesting!" There was something in his tone that caused Ryan to lift his eyes to look at him. "I mean, I haven't seen Tim Lockhart laugh in over a year and there he is – laughing." 

Luke pointed to a table behind Ryan, who swiveled around in his chair to see. A small, knowing smile softened his icy mask.

Tim Lockhart was not only laughing but also apparently saying something funny in turn because the girl sharing his table was laughing, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan noticed Luke waving wildly at Tim to get his attention. 

Tim noticed Luke, smiled and pointed toward the table where the two boys were sitting. Anna turned, smiled and returned Luke's wave good-naturedly. 

To Ryan, who was grinning broadly now, she gave a small shrug and mouthed silently - you were right.

Luke started to ask Ryan about Anna when he caught sight of the time on the clock at the end of the patio. "We've got to go, brother." He pushed Ryan's book and notebook back across the table to him. At the return of Ryan's gloomy expression, Luke chuckled and recited,

"Boldly they rode and well,  
Into the jaws of Death,  
Into the mouth of Hell  
Rode the six hundred."

Ryan gave Luke a bemused look and began to smile. "Do I look that worried?"

Luke shrugged. "It's the only thing I remember that seemed right for the occasion. Ryan, you can thank, or blame, my ninth grade English teacher who gave extra credit for memorizing stuff. Your mood usually ranges from reserved to somber. Since you seemed to be trying for a new, darker adjective today, I thought it might get a laugh out of you. Besides, I like how it sounds."

Ryan was still smiling as they passed Tim and Anna's table. He nodded at Tim and winked at Anna.

They were almost to their classroom when it occurred to Luke that Ryan hadn't said how he was getting home from school. "Ryan, you didn't say how you were getting home after history. Who's taking you? Do you need a ride?"

Ryan walked on a few steps before answering. "I'm not going home after the test. I'm finishing out the day. Sandy's picking me up." 

Luke stopped and Ryan was forced to stop as well or be rude. "You're passing up the get-out-of-school-free card to stick around here for two more hours? Did they check you for brain damage at the hospital? 

"I had a _big_ discussion with the Cohens about coming today and I don't want them to worry about me. Life goes on - I'll be back tomorrow like usual. I'll feel better tomorrow." Ryan waited warily for Luke's response but he said nothing to this only stared at Ryan for a moment.

"Man, I'll have to catch up with you at class. I've got to make a stop before the test." Luke walked off toward the men's restrooms. As Ryan headed on to class, Luke pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.

Ryan paused before he entered the door and muttered under his breath, "Excelsior!".

A.N. It's been a long time since I read "Excelsior" but its nameless hero reminds me of Ryan. In case it's been a long time for you too, here it is.

Excelsior

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The shades of night were falling fast,

As through an Alpine village passed

A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice,

A banner with the strange device,

Excelsior!

His brow was sad; his eye beneath

Flashed like a falchion from its sheath,

And like a silver clarion rung

The accents of that unknown tongue,

Excelsior!

In happy homes he saw the light

Of household fires gleam warm and bright;

Above, the spectral glaciers shone,

And from his lips escaped a groan,

Excelsior!

"Try not the Pass," the old man said;

"Dark lours the tempest overhead,

The roaring torrent is deep and wide!"

And loud that clarion voice replied,

Excelsior!

"O stay," the maiden said, "and rest

Thy weary head upon this breast!"

A tear stood in his bright blue eye,

But still he answered, with a sigh,

Excelsior!

"Beware the pine-tree's withered branch!

Beware the awful avalanche!"

This was the peasant's last Good-night.

A voice replied, far up the height,

Excelsior!

At break of day, as heavenward

The pious monks of Saint Bernard

Uttered the oft-repeated prayer,

A voice cried through the startled air,

Excelsior!

A traveller, by the faithful hound,

Half-buried in the snow was found,

Still grasping in his hands of ice

That banner with the strange device,

Excelsior!

There in the twilight cold and gray,

Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay,

And from the sky, serene and far,

A voice fell, like a falling star,

Excelsior!


	8. 1:15 pm

A.N. Thanks go to my longsuffering Beta whose advice I did not always take but which was always appreciated. The final version is better because of it and I hope you agree with that assessment, at least, Lisa. The mistakes are all mine, of course.

1:15 p.m.

Kirsten walked into the kitchen to the sound of the teakettle's two-note moan. A mournful sound that made her think of a lost soul. It had been a Chrismukkah gift from Seth who'd thought it cool and very new age. The sound _was_ distinctive; but even after four years, she still had to stop and think to identify the wailing sound coming from her kitchen. Sandy delighted in telling anyone who asked that it was the anguished moans of former dinner guests. The first time Ryan asked, Seth told him that their house was built on top of an ancient Indian burial site. 

She turned off the gas under the kettle and finished toweling her hair dry. The four hours of sleep she'd gotten since leaving the hospital were not enough but would have to do for today. The shower had gotten her going and now tea would allow her to face the new day – a definitely brighter new day. Sandy's report on the visit by Seth's doctor this morning was very positive.

She poured water over her teabag and let the sweet odor of apples and spices envelop her. A squeeze of honey and all would be right with the world. She cinched the white terrycloth robe tighter, like a warrior about to go into battle and considered the kitchen telephone. She'd already checked her cell phone for messages and the laptop in her bedroom for emails. Her last task before dressing and heading into the office for an abbreviated workday was to listen for messages there. 

With relief she found that she had only two:

__

"Your first new message was received from an unknown number, today, at 10:45 am."

"Mrs. Cohen, this is Anna . . . Anna Stern. Ryan said you'd be home this morning. I talked to Ryan before and after first period. He's not doing well this morning . . . Ryan said he didn't want to worry you guys when you've got Seth on your minds; but he seems to be in a lot of pain. He confessed to me that he hasn't been taking his pain meds. I think it's stupid that he's staying in school after his fourth period test just so you won't know that something's wrong with him. I hope you don't mind me calling, but Ryan isn't looking out for Ryan. Bye. " Kirsten heard a sigh before the connection was broken.

__

"Your next new message was received from an unknown number, today, at 12:45 p.m."

"Hey, this is Luke Ward. I'm not sure who's home today but I had lunch with Ryan a little while ago and something is off with him. He didn't eat anything and said that he'd been cold all day . . . he couldn't get warm. I found him asleep in the sun wearing a sweatshirt and it was, like, 70 degrees on the terrace! I think he's in more pain than he admits, too. He was walking real slow and stiff at school. I don't know why the hell . . . sorry . . . he's staying after our history test fourth period. He should get out of here! Don't tell him I called. He'd kill me as soon as he felt better." Kirsten heard a smile in Luke's voice as he disconnected. 

Kirsten stood at the window looking out over the pool before returning the phone to its place on the wall. As she walked back to the master suite, she pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her robe and dialed the hospital. She needed to know if Sandy had noticed anything when he drove Ryan to school. 

Seth answered. "Seth, put your dad on please." She hadn't thought this through. She should have called Sandy's cell. _I can't ask Sandy questions about Ryan with Seth there. "_I need to talk to him for a minute."

"Hey, mom. Two calls in less than an hour, impressive!"

"Seth, this is important. Put your dad on."

"Sorry to disappoint, Dad's on an ice-cream run for me to the cafeteria." Seth didn't sound disappointed at all.

"Ice-cream? You're not having your tonsils out again." She smiled at the memory of Seth at six years old during his only hospital stay. "No using your bed for a trampoline and no wheelchair races for you, this time. This time it's serious. How long has he been gone?"

"Spoilsport! You don't have to worry about me. At this point my only strenuous activity consists of the sadistic Nurse Mary, she of the _basso profundo_ voice," his voice dropped an octave in imitation of her "walking me up and down the halls. She has a really perverse and disgusting interest in my bodily functions and gas production."

"**Seth!"** Kirsten brought out her Mom Voice.

"Okay, okay. Maybe ten minutes. He should be back soon." Seth's voice dropped. "Uh-oh, speak of the devil. Nurse Mary, the radiantly beautiful Nurse Mary, I should add, has just arrived!" His voice softened to a whisper only Kirsten could hear as he continued melodramatically. "She's come to put me to the question, 'Have you passed gas today?' and to take me on another death march." 

"Seth, I don't want to keep you from your treatment regimen. Have your dad call when he gets back. Have a good walk." Kirsten gave him no sympathy. She disconnected and slipped the cell into the pocket of the suit jacket she'd laid out to wear. Ryan's test would be over in about forty minutes. She really needed to talk to Sandy.

Ryan closed the bluebook, pulled his pack from under the table, and zipped his pen into its outside pocket. He looked across the room to Luke, who'd stopped writing and appeared to be rereading his essay. _Well, that was that_. 

Ryan was so tired that he had no idea how he'd done on the test. He thought it was probably a bad sign that he'd finished before so many of his classmates. What he did know was that he had a little free time before his next class and that an Americano might keep going him and warm him up. He pushed his chair away from the table, walked to Mr. O'Connell's desk, and deposited his test on top of the small pile of bluebooks that had already been turned in.

Before he could get away, Mr. O'Connell looked up from his book. "Mr. Atwood, a note came for you during the test." He handed Ryan a small Harbor School envelope and returned to his reading.

Ryan went into the hall and sat on a bench opposite one of the tall windows that faced the quad below. He held the envelope in his hands and read the return address imprinted in its corner again: Office of the Dean of Students. _A note from Dr. Kim,_ Ryan thought. He hadn't done anything that would warrant a note from Dr. Kim. 

He'd been sitting there pondering the summons when the light flooding in through the window was blocked and the note was thrown into shadow. 

Ryan lifted his head to find Luke standing in front of him.

"What did old man O'Connell give you? You looked kinda green in there." Luke eyed the envelope curiously.

"It's from Dr. Kim's office."

"God, Chino. What does she think you've done now?" 

Ryan made no effort to open the note. 

"Well, you better open it and find out."

Ryan ran a finger under the flap and pulled out the piece of notepaper inside. "Well, at least it's not a formal letter." His apprehension eased as he opened the note and read: 

__

Mr. Atwood,

Please come to my office after your fourth period class.

"It's signed by Dr. Kim." Ryan turned the paper over as though some additional clue to its meaning would be found on the back.

"You can't ignore a summons from the Dragon Lady." Luke said. "There may be a 'please' in there, but it's still a command."

Ryan refolded the note, put it back into its envelope, and placed the note in his pack. "You're right. I'll see you in PE." As Ryan rose to leave, Luke's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Not so fast, Chino. I've got some time 'til fifth period. I'll come with you."

Ryan stared at Luke and shook his head. "It's not your problem . . . whatever this is. I haven't done anything. I don't need any help." His voice was both defiant and doubtful. 

"Can the lone samurai act. I'm offering to go with you, Ryan. Do you want me to come or not? Cohen's not available; so, I'll take your back today if you want." 

Ryan hesitated, considering the sincerity he heard in Luke's voice. Finally, he nodded. 

As the two boys headed up the hill toward the Admin Building, Luke remarked thoughtfully. "Besides, you might need a diversion if you have to make a break for it."

Ryan and Luke entered the Dean's outer office; and while Ryan spoke to Dr. Kim's secretary, Luke took a chair by the door. The secretary rang Dr. Kim and after a short conversation advised Ryan to be seated. 

Ryan joined Luke by the door and slid his pack under the chair. 

"All the better for a quick getaway." Luke said indicating their position by the door. 

The intercom on the secretary's desk buzzed and Ryan looked up.

"You may go in now Mr. Atwood." The secretary stood and opened the door for Ryan.

Kirsten was sitting with Dr. Kim in the office's conversation area as Ryan entered. She held a white china teacup and sipped from it. The informality of the setting reassured him but why was Kirsten here? 

"Is something wrong with Seth?" The question popped out before he could stop it.

"No, Ryan, Seth's fine," Kirsten reassured him. "I'm here to take you home." She set her teacup down on the coffee table and stood. "I explained to Dr. Kim that Sandy and I had reservations about letting you come today, but you were so insistent about not wanting to miss your history test that we gave in." 

Dr. Kim seemed to be eating the test crap up and he was pretty sure she actually beamed at him. 

That was somehow more alarming than the dean's disapproving face. "Sandy and I talked about it again today and we think that now that your test is over you should get some rest. You were at the hospital almost as many hours as Sandy and I were this weekend and you need to rest." Kirsten continued.

"I understand and completely agree, Mr. Atwood," a still beaming Dr. Kim added. "All the progress reports I've received from your teachers have been excellent. A few days off, assuming you keep up with your reading, should not cause you any problems. I'll notify your teachers. We all want you to be at 100% when you return." 

Kirsten stood, thanked Dr. Kim and led Ryan out of the office.

Luke stood as Kirsten, followed by Ryan, entered the outer office. "Everything cool?" 

Ryan gave him a slightly bemused smile and nodded.

"Ryan's going to take a couple of days off, Luke." Kirsten smiled warmly at Luke.

"Well, okay." Luke agreed enthusiastically. "I'll call you later, Ryan. I'd go see Cohen tonight, but I might run into Summer and I'm not one of her favorite people either today." He gave Ryan a knowing smile. "So long, Mrs. Cohen. Take care of yourself, man." 

Ryan pulled his pack out from under the chair and followed Kirsten into the hallway. 

"Do you need to get any books?" Kirsten asked fumbling in her purse for her car keys.

"I've got my history book here, but I should grab my English reader if I'm gonna be out two days." 

If Kirsten noticed the qualification on the length of his recuperation period, she gave no sign.

"I'll be waiting for you right outside. I'm driving the silver Escalade. You won't have to do any stairs this afternoon."

From the coolness of the SUV's air conditioned interior, Kirsten watched Ryan walk toward her across the parking lot. His progress was slow and painful to watch. Luke had been right. He was walking stiffly, rather than with his usual relaxed, easy gait. 

The day had grown steadily warmer and it seemed impossible that he could be comfortable in the sweatshirt he was wearing. He seemed to favor cooler, lightweight clothes like those T-shirts Seth called wifebeaters. This was totally uncharacteristic. Kirsten reached up and pressed the button that displayed the outdoor temperature on the small unit set into the ceiling of the SUV – 75F. She gave a small sigh as she flicked off the air conditioner and opened the automatic window on the driver's side. Her carefully styled hair would have to be sacrificed. Ryan would never ask her to turn off the AC. She would have to make the windblown look work for her. 

It hadn't occurred to her that just getting into the big SUV might be a challenge for Ryan. She silently thanked Julie again for ordering running boards. Ryan opened the door and threw his pack into the back before grabbing the handgrip in the ceiling and pulling himself into the truck. He settled into the deep maroon leather of the passenger seat and pulled on the seatbelt.

"What do you think?" Kirsten gestured around the interior of the SUV.

"It's big." 

"It's a company car." Kirsten was slightly embarrassed. "Julie ordered it for my dad. She thought it was an appropriate vehicle for the president of a major land development company like the Newport Group. She said he could use it for visiting construction sites." Kirsten saw the quick sidewise glance that Ryan shot her and chuckled. "Right. Can you imagine the reaction he would have received at any construction site he arrived at in this . . ." Kirsten was at a loss for words but she enjoyed the broad smile that momentarily brightened Ryan's face. "Dad hasn't been in it since Julie left the company. I have it until I get a new car."

"Are we going to the hospital now?" Ryan asked.

Sandy had warned her to expect this question. "No, Ryan. I meant what I told Dr. Kim. You need to rest and that's what you're going to do before you go up to visit Seth. First, though, I'm starving and need food. I know you just had lunch but teenagers are always hungry, right?" She glanced at him, but he was looking away from her. It was so hard to ever get him to make eye contact. She couldn't decide if he did it intentionally with her or if it was a learned survival mechanism. 

She ignored his silence and continued. "I thought we'd have a late lunch at The Lighthouse. We can see how the food and service are holding up now that last week's grand opening hoopla is over. Sandy says they have great soups." 

"I'm not exactly dressed for The Lighthouse." Ryan gestured toward his sweatshirt and jeans.

"Don't worry about that, Ryan. The rules don't apply to the owner's wife." 

Ryan didn't ask again about the hospital or comment on her idea of a late lunch. They drove on to The Lighthouse in silence.

The valet took Kirsten's keys and gave her a ticket before driving the truck away. As they walked into the dimness of the restaurant, Kirsten knew immediately that one of Sandy and Jimmy's opening week problems hadn't been fixed yet – the temperamental AC unit was working overtime pumping cold air into the dining room.

"Mrs. Cohen, you've come to have lunch with us." The hostess greeted Kirsten effusively. "Where would you and your son like to sit?"

"This isn't . . .." Kirsten hesitated and then finished. "A day to eat inside, I think. " She gave the hostess an understanding smile and glanced at Ryan, whose arms were crossed as though bored by the whole exchange.

Oblivious to their conversation, he pressed his arms more tightly to his chest. His greatest concern appeared to be to mask the shivering that had started in his shoulders. 

"A table on the deck, in the sun, would be good." Kirsten followed the hostess, with Ryan trailing after them. "It was a little chilly in there." The table the hostess led them to overlooked the harbor. "I wasn't dressed for that but with your sweatshirt . . .." She left the thought unfinished as they took their seats.

"No, the deck's better. I've been a little cold today." He admitted reluctantly.

Taking that as an excuse for motherly concern, Kirsten reached across the table and put the back of her hand against his forehead and then his cheek. "Have you felt feverish?" She asked before cupping her hand under his chin and lifting gently. "Ryan, let me see your eyes. I can always tell when Seth has a fever from his eyes." She stared into his blue eyes and frowned. "When did you take your last pain pill?"

Ryan drew back from her and glanced away. "Before lunch. Why?"

"Your eyes are different from Seth's."

"Blue?" Ryan suggested with a small smile.

"Well, yes, that, too. But I can't tell about a fever. When did you take your pain pill this morning?" When Ryan didn't answer, her frown deepened. "Ryan?"

"Sorry, I don't remember." Ryan was saved from further questions by the arrival of the waitress inquiring about drinks and offering to explain the day's lunch specials.

Kirsten placed their drink order before Ryan had time to ask for black coffee. "We'll both have tea, Earl Grey, with honey, lemon and cream." Kirsten held up a hand to ward off Ryan's objections and continued with her order. "I know what I'm having but what are your soups?" After listening to their choices, Kirsten said thoughtfully. "If you're coming down with something, Ryan, we should avoid the rich, cream based soups. How about a bowl of the chicken vegetable?" She took his shrug as a yes and continued. "And I'll have Mrs. Cooper's meatloaf." As the waitress walked away Kirsten settled back to listen to Ryan's complaints.

"Tea! I drink coffee - black." Ryan fumed.

"Tea is better for you if you're getting sick. Have you ever had tea with honey and lemon? You can put cream in too if you want although the lemon makes the cream curdle. It doesn't affect the taste, just its appearance. It will warm you up and be easier on your stomach than coffee."

"What's with the Mrs. Cooper's meatloaf? Why not Sandy's mom's?" Ryan asked grumpily.

"Mrs. Cohen is a wonderful cook. You'll have a chance to sample her cooking if I take her up on her offer to come out and watch Seth when he comes home from the hospital. The meatloaf I had at Jimmy's house was, however, the best I ever had. "But, I'll tell you a secret about the Cooper meatloaf. The recipe wasn't Jimmy's mom's. She never set foot in the kitchen except to bake cookies at Christmas. It's actually his grandmother's recipe. His mom made certain their cook had the recipe and prepared it. I always stayed to dinner when the Coopers were having meatloaf." She smiled at the memory. "I can't tell Sandy how I feel so that's one of the reasons why I'm sneaking off to have a lunch date with you today."

"How did you do on your test?" She smiled at his expression. "That good, huh?"

"I don't know. I barely remember taking it." He said absently. At the look on Kirsten's face, he hastened to add. "I mean, once I take a test I forget about it. I never have a feel for how I've done on them . . . good or bad."

Kirsten took pity on him. He'd told her what she wanted to know. "Your birthday will be coming up soon. You've almost made it to 17. This time next year you'll have two things to look forward to. You'll be counting down the days until you graduate and the day you turn 18, your Independence Day. The day you get out from under the thumb of the court.

"You'll be an adult and you can start making your own decisions. No one will be making them for you. What you want to do with the rest of your life, where you want to live, all that will be your decision. You can be on your own, have a place to call your own. Finally getting out on my own was a great feeling. It will be a very exciting time for you"

"A very exciting time." Ryan never looked up from stirring honey into his tea. 

Kirsten went on. "Oh, and the confirmations for you and Seth to take the SATs were in today's mail."

Ryan paused before taking a drink of his tea and cradled the cup in his hands, enjoying the warmth. "I told Sandy I didn't want to take them again. Sandy thought my scores the first time were pretty good. Taking them again seems like a waste of my time and your money."

"I didn't know you felt that way, Ryan. When Sandy gave me the forms, I just wrote the checks. It seemed like a good idea. Your scores were so good even after two years at your old school that they should be higher after the year of hard work you've put in at Harbor. Admissions officers look closely at that kind of thing if your transcript raises questions for them." Kirsten watched Ryan as she explained, wanting to reassure him. "It's not a waste of your time and don't worry about the cost. That's part of the responsibility we assumed when we let you stay. It's our duty as your guardians to make these opportunities available to you."

"I'm grateful for all you've done. I know that it's been way more than what was required of you. I understand my position and I'm sorry that I embarrassed you." Ryan's voice was soft and emotionless. "That stuff at the hospital, me freaking out and shouting at you and Sandy that way in the waiting room was wrong. Kirsten, you and Sandy had Seth to worry about. You didn't need my crap then. You needed to calm me down and I . . ." Ryan paused and watched the seagulls wheeling through the air above the deck before continuing. "I needed to hear you say you wanted me to stay. We can forget all that stuff because everything's cool now. Seth's going to be okay and things can go back to the way they were." Ryan looked at her, looked her in the eye, and said in a matter of fact tone, "Your responsibility for me ends on my birthday next year. Just like you said, I'll be 'independent' and 'on my own'. "

"I never said I wanted to go to college. No one in my family has ever gone. I'll get an after school job next spring. Together with what I can save this summer I should have enough money to be able to afford a place of my own when your responsibility for me is over." Ryan was looking at the bowl of soup that the waitress had set in front of him. He hadn't yet touched the spoon.

Kirsten's fork paused on its way to her plate. "Have you talked about any of this with Sandy? He just assumed that you'd want to go to college. It would be a big disappointment to him if you didn't try." She was confused and upset and wished that Sandy were here. The conversation was veering off in a direction that was filled with traps that Sandy would recognize but that she, from her background, could never spot. She decided instead to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "You should taste your soup. Just as ice-cream cools you off from the inside out, soup warms you from the inside out."

"How did Sandy manage it? Going to Berkley, I mean. He told me his family didn't have any money." Ryan picked up his spoon and took a tentative spoonful.

"He had a scholarship that only covered tuition. Everything else, housing, food, books he had to pay for himself. Just the cost of getting from New York to California was a challenge. So, he worked to support himself. He's very proud of doing that. He says it was good for him and he'd make Seth do it if he thought he could get away with it." Kirsten smiled. "Sandy knows, however, that Seth doesn't have any interest in working while he's in school and that his grandfather would pay for anything we didn't. I'm afraid that Seth won't benefit from any of the character building rewards Sandy's experience gave him."

"Then you guys shouldn't object to me getting ready for my independence by working my last semester. I'll need that money." 

"But, Ryan, what about school and your grades if you work?"

"You said it just now, Kirsten. Sandy thinks going to school and working build character."

"That was college . . . not high school! Your senior year of high school should be special. It shouldn't have the distractions work brings." Kirsten's fears were coming true. This conversation had spun out of control. Ryan had mapped out a life for himself that she and Sandy were completely ignorant of. _How had they misread each other so completely?_

Ryan stared at Kirsten in confusion. "What's the difference except that I'd be the one doing it? I need that extra time to get ready to be independent . . . to be on my own. That's what I'm supposed to be working toward, isn't it? The few jobs I can get won't pay much and I won't be able to work many hours until I'm 18, so I can't wait." Ryan hurried on. "When I'm out of high school I can look for a job in construction. I've done it before. I liked it and I know people in the industry who, I think, might help me. If I'm lucky I can even get into an apprenticeship program. Carpentry would be good." Ryan said thoughtfully. "It's not architecture but I'd be building things."

"Does that mean you're going back to Chino?" Kirsten watched Ryan intently.

"That's where all the people who can help me are; and it's a lot cheaper to live in Chino than Newport. Besides, everyone I know here will have gone off to college by the end of next summer. You guys will have done your duty . . . and more . . .. It'll be time for me to rejoin the real world. 

Kirsten got it then as she flashed back to her senior year in high school and her plans. She remembered how happy and excited she'd been at the idea of getting away from Newport and the family and being on her own. The reality of what "independence" and being "on your own" meant for Kirsten Nichols and what in Ryan Atwood's experience they meant washed over her in a series of disorienting waves. She thought of the allowance that appeared in her bank account on the first day of each month; the credit card and tuition bills that had gone straight to an accountant for payment; and the condo three blocks from UC Berkley that Caleb had insisted on buying for her. Overlaying her memories, like a double exposure, was the picture of a kid with only a backpack, alone on a street corner. At the end of a day that was fast fading into twilight, the boy held in his hands a dwindling supply of coins. Coins that he was feeding into a payphone in a fruitless effort to find a place to crash for the night. Ryan had mapped out a future for himself that made him dependent on no one but himself. 

Kirsten uneaten lunch had grown cold on her plate. "The soup must have been good. It's all gone. How are you feeling?" She asked him.

"Yeah, it was okay." Was Ryan's only answer.

"I'm going to take you home now." She held up a hand. "You're going to take a nap. I know you're not five but that's what's going to happen. Either Sandy or I will take you up to the hospital later. But you're going to get some rest first." 

Ryan appeared ready to argue but instead merely pushed back his chair. "Okay, so when?" 

Kirsten blinked at him. 

"When can I go to the hospital?

"I'll leave that up to you, Ryan. You can call me at the office or call Sandy at the hospital when you wake up and one of us will pick you up. But I don't expect to get any calls before 5:00 p.m. Understood?" Kirsten signed the check for the waitress and stood. "Well?"

"Yeah, I get it . . . two hour nap, minimum. What if I can't sleep?" They were both on their feet heading for the deck's exit on the way to the valet station. Ryan recognized Kirsten's look and repeated. "Two hour minimum. Got it!"

The echo of her son in Ryan's voice caused Kirsten to catch her breath. _What are we going to do, Sandy?_


	9. 8:30 pm

A BAD MONDAY

8: 3O pm

Ryan had been drifting, deep in REM sleep. He couldn't remember his original dream but he was aware that he'd moved closer to waking. He was trying to direct his current dream and affect its outcome. This usually happened just before his radio kicked on in the morning; but a ringing telephone had started him on the way to wakefulness.

__

Why didn't voicemail pick up? Why didn't that damn thing stop ringing? As he turned another loop in the upward spiral toward awareness, he realized that the phone was cycling through a pattern, four rings and a pause, four rings and a pause.

Ryan just wanted to go back to sleep and fall back into soft oblivion. He didn't want to move out of the warm, snug impression his body had made in the mattress. For the first time in days he wasn't being jarred awake by his body's pain. He felt as if he could sleep for days if only the ringing would stop. Then the events of the last three days came flooding back to him, bringing him fully awake. 

The phone started another cycle. This time, however, he stretched out a hand to the telephone and picked up the handset. Rolling onto his back, he pressed the talk button. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. Are you okay?" Anna's voice sounded worried. 

"Fine. I was sleeping." Ryan opened his eyes and realized that he'd overslept. The pool-house was dark except for pale yellow light coming in through the windows from the patio lights. He checked the clock next to the bed. Staring back at him accusingly, illuminated in red, was the time: 8:30 p.m. Visiting hours at the hospital ended at nine. "Shit!"

"I beg your pardon?" The voice on the other end sounded amused - no longer worried. 

"Sorry, I just looked at my clock. I missed visiting hours. Damn!" He put his left arm across his face. "I am so screwed. Did you visit Seth? How's he doing?" Ryan pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Tim and I went up this evening. This was the first time I'd seen him so it's hard for me to say if he's doing better. He looked pale, but he was definitely in good spirits. His face is banged up from the airbag and he still has an IV and some monitoring equipment hooked up to him. He complained that the nurses had had him up walking a couple of times today but he was inordinately proud of having passed gas. Tim high-fived him for that. Guys." Anna snorted. "No offense, Ryan."

"Sure." Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head at the mental image.

"What about you? You were so anxious to see Seth this morning. What happened?" 

Ryan heard curiosity and concern but no accusation in her question. "I had lunch with Kirsten and she went all maternal and told me I had to take a nap before I could go to the hospital. That was five hours ago, so I guess she was right." He sighed.

"I doubt Seth even noticed you hadn't been there. Summer was feeding him Jell-O when we arrived. Seth said she'd been there since three. To get there that early she must have cut her last class. While we were there she announced to all of us that getting Seth well enough to go home had become her 'full-time, number one, priority'. You should have seen Kirsten's face when Summer said that." There was amusement in Anna's voice. "Kirsten looked totally pissed. Seth, however, was nauseatingly happy. So, yeah, he's doing just fine." 

Anna hesitated and Ryan was about to ask her what was wrong when she continued "I saw Luke today. He told me about your run-in with Summer; and when Tim mentioned seeing you guys at lunch, Summer got a strange expression on her face. Even Tim noticed it and asked me about it later. She was standing behind Seth, so he didn't see it."

"How did Summer act toward you? Anything strange?"

"No, no problems." Anna paused as though thinking back over her visit and asked, "Why would there be?" 

"Summer saw us outside your biology class this morning and got the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea? Oh." Followed by a drawn out, "Ohhhhhh! You didn't tell Luke about that part of your conversation with Summer, did you?"

"No, it wasn't important." Ryan's voice was emphatic. "Tim went with you? Good."

"So you're not going to say anything else?" She waited a minute and finally sighed. "Yeah, Tim's really very sweet. You were right."

"I know I didn't describe him as 'sweet'." Ryan said with mock seriousness. "But, I think I might have said that he's a good guy."

"Close enough." Anna's good mood was restored. "So what are you going to do about Seth?"

"I couldn't get there by nine even if anyone was home to drive me. I'll call him. The hospital switchboard is still putting calls through. Maybe Summer's gone home." 

"I wouldn't count on it. Remember he's now her number one priority? She's probably trying to talk Kirsten out of night duty and the cot in Seth's room." Anna remarked dryly. She dropped the sarcasm and continued more seriously. "I don't think your problems with her are over, Ryan."

"It's something I'll deal with. Thanks for the call. I would have slept right on through the night and I need to talk to Seth. I'll call you after school."

"Good. We really haven't talked about how you're doing. But I'll let it ride for now. Night." Anna broke the connection.

Ryan leaned over and set the handset in the charger. He lay there for a minute half in and half out of bed. Finally, he raised himself onto his elbow, then onto his left hand, swinging his legs to the edge and then over, he sat on the edge of the bed. He glanced over at the pool house's refrigerator and did a quick mental inventory: a can of soda, an old pizza box with, he thought, one piece of pepperoni left in it, and a tray of ice cubes. _ I should check out the refrigerator in the kitchen._

Ryan picked the pair of jeans he'd worn to school that morning up from the floor and pulled them on before slipping into his sneakers. The sky had grown overcast and the nighttime temperature had dropped when he emerged from the pool house, but he decided against going back for his sweatshirt. The T-shirt he wore would be enough for the short walk to the main house. As he opened the patio door into the kitchen there was a low rumble of what might have been thunder out over the ocean.

A.N. In order to keep the baying wolves of Muchtvs' vigilante group at bay, I have, like the Russian travelers of legend, decided to throw sections of my last chapter out as they are finished to appease their bloodlust. Part two: 8:45 pm should be out tomorrow and the final section 9:15 pm will be out next week. 


	10. 8:45 pm

A Bad Monday

8:45 pm

__

Kirsten deserves time with Seth. Summer knew that. She'd been telling herself that for the last ten minutes. Seth had almost died and it was understandable if, in her opinion, not totally fair, that Kirsten would be protective of her mother's prerogatives. 

So, Summer waited – waited for them to get back from Seth's last walk of the day. She checked her watch again. At this rate she wouldn't have any time with him before visiting hours were over and they hustled her out. _A girlfriend is the same as family, right? They'd let Ryan stay past visiting hours if he were here. He's "family." _

Summer frowned sourly and tried to interest herself in the comic book Seth had given her to read. She held it just as she'd been shown, careful not to crease the cover, or tear the pages as she thumbed through it. _All of these costumed freaks look alike_. _Why don't they get back? I hate waiting. _She slapped the comic book down on the chair beside her ignoring all of Seth's patient instructions. She hated waiting.

* * *

****

Seth paused and looked back at Kirsten, making a circular motion with his free hand. "Mom, let's pick up the pace a little, okay? Visiting hours'll be over soon."

Kirsten smiled at Seth's attempt to pick up the pace. His right hand gripped the IV stand rolling alongside him, his left hand pressed against his incision, as he shuffled along in his short, brown hospital issue booties. He'd refused the pale blue ones they'd first given him as being too minty. 

He was pushing himself, determined to have a few more minutes with Summer before she went home for the night.

* * *

Seth's phone rang. Summer stood and walked over to the bed. She looked at the phone and then at the door before answering it. "Seth Cohen's room." She thought she heard someone take a breath on the other end.

"Hey, Summer." It was Ryan. "Can I talk to Seth?"

"It's late, Chino." Her lips pressed together into a tight line.

"Yeah, I know. I fell asleep. Just wanted to check in with Seth. No one's around here, so I can't make it up tonight." 

Summer automatically checked her watch. "Guess not. It's eight forty-five now." Her voice was distant, cool. Her manicured nails drummed silently on the tray top as she spoke. "Out of sight, out of mind huh, Chino? 

* * *

****

"Do you think Ryan will make it up to see me tonight? It's not like him. Everything's alright with Ryan isn't it?" Seth allowed himself a break when he reached the waiting area across from the nurses' station, the halfway point in his circuit of the floor. 

Kirsten glanced at the clock on the wall. "Visiting hours are over at 9:00 and it's ten till now - so, probably not. I told Ryan to take a nap and he apparently needed it. Your dad will check on him when he gets home. He was going to stop in at The Lighthouse on the way home." She paused. "I'm sure everything is okay with Ryan, honey." 

"Summer won't leave before we get back, will she?" Seth asked glancing up at the clock. 

Kirsten smiled and shook her head. "I'd like to see even the formidable Nurse Mary try to get her out before you get back. She'll be there to tell you goodnight."

Now that he'd regained his breath, Seth set out again in the lead. He didn't see the small frown that wrinkled Kirsten's forehead as she glanced at the clock once again before dutifully following her son down the hallway.

* * *

"Your name seems to come up in like every other sentence with Seth. It's 'Ryan this' or 'Ryan that'. But Seth just dropped off your radar screen like Marissa, didn't he?." Summer paused before continuing. "I finally heard from Marissa. Her jailer let her make a call."

Ryan's voice was guarded, controlled. "How is she?" 

"You mean you really care? How do you think she is? She's desperate to get out of there and away from her mother. She doesn't understand why everyone's abandoned her . . . why nobody will help her." Summer's voice grew brittle, edgier and closer to the anger she'd shown Ryan that morning.

"There's nothing I can do." Ryan's voice was tired.

"Right, Chino, we covered all this earlier. Marissa's an alcoholic who needs to recognize she has a problem before anyone can help her. That's convenient for you. You can stay in Newport without any guilt for abandoning her to her mother."

"Summer, I called to talk to Seth. Is he there?" Impatience crept into Ryan's voice.

"Kirsten took him on a walk around the floor. I'm just waiting to say goodnight to him."

* * *

****

"Mrs. Cohen." A young woman at the nurses' station called as they passed it on their way back to Seth's room.

"Seth, I need to see what she wants. Can you make it to your room? It's only another ten feet."

Her question was met by a look of complete disdain and total incredulity that only a teenager could master. "You're along only for moral support, Mom. Of course, I can make it."

Kirsten nodded and walked over to the window where the woman who had called her waited. From the counter, she could observe Seth's progress and she anxiously watched his painfully slow gait as he covered the last few feet to his room.

* * *

"Well, Chino, you could call back later if talking to me is making you feel guilty."

"When will they be back, Summer?" Ryan asked.

"Another five or ten minutes. Seth's not breaking any speed records, you know. Oh, but how would you know? You couldn't find the time to visit him today. And I thought you guys were like brothers." She purred into the receiver. "You're the one he depends on, the one he goes to for advice – even for advice on me. How humiliating is that? Do you think I enjoy having him discuss me with you?" Summer asked rhetorically. "You know that Seth Cohen has no secrets. He'll tell you everything if you're just patient and pay attention. We've known each other practically our entire lives and yet he goes to the guy he's known for, like, eight months for the important stuff." Summer tossed her head and only wished that the effect wasn't being wasted on an empty room. "Don't worry, Chino. Your meal ticket's getting better and is none the wiser about what kind of a creep you really are."

* * *

****

Seth took a ragged breath and stopped just outside his room, waiting until the spasm of pain that radiated out from his incision subsided_. Not as bad as this morning_. He smiled weakly, hoping he hadn't lost too much color and that his mother hadn't noticed anything. Since the accident she'd developed the eyes of a super hero when it came to spotting the slightest indication of pain or even discomfort in his face or the way he held his body.

He refused to look back over his shoulder to see if she was watching. Instead he pretended to wipe a hand on his gown and get a better grip on the IV stand. Now that the worst of the pain had passed he became aware of Summer's angry voice coming from his room.

* * *

"No, I didn't tell him about this morning. What's the point? He wouldn't believe me. You have them all so fooled . . . Cohen most of all. It's been so easy for you, Chino. Seth thinks you're a straight arrow, a white knight, even with everything he knows about you and your past. Cheat on your girlfriend; hit a woman; he'd never believe any of that. You are a fraud, Chino!"

"Summer. . .." Ryan paused. "I'm sorry about this morning, Summer. I guess I'll call back later." He hung up on her.

Summer slammed the handset down, anger clearly showing on her face. As she turned away from the phone, she saw Seth standing in the doorway watching her, a bewildered expression on his face. 

Her anger dissolved at the sight of Seth's pale face and tears trickled down her cheeks as she walked toward him.


	11. 9:15 pm

A.N. This chapter was completed before I injured my arm so there's been no change on that front. Unless there's another chapter hiding on my harddrive that I've forgotten, I am on hiatus until I can transcribe my stories from longhand to electronic media. This is not the last chapter of A Bad Monday so please have patience with me. As usual I'm responsible for anything you hate about this chapter. My poor, long suffering, Beta tries to steer me in the paths of true-to-series characterizations and canonical story lines but doesn't always prevail.

Disclaimer: Everything pertaining to The OC and its characters belongs to other people.

A Bad Monday

9:15 pm

Ryan jabbed the disconnect button and stared at the handset for several seconds before relaxing his grip and carefully setting it on the countertop. Around him the Cohens' home was dark, empty and silent. That silence was a painful reminder of why the house was empty and he was alone.

__

I'll call Seth in the morning when Summer's in school.

The wind had come up and, through the open patio door, Ryan heard waves lapping against the sides of the pool. He stood slowly, picked up his bowl and glass and carried them to the sink. Without thinking about it, he rinsed the dishes and placed them in the empty dishwasher. Once he'd closed the door, he reversed the smiley face magnet, displaying the frowning face that indicated dirty dishes were inside.

Ryan heard the phone in the pool house ringing as he approached the patio door. As he turned off the kitchen lights, the phone on the counter began to ring.

Ryan switched the lights on and picked up the handset. "Cohen residence."

"Ryan?"

Just the sound of his name brought a smile to Ryan's face. "Seth! Hey."

"You didn't come to see me today."

Seth's flat, emotionless statement caught Ryan off guard and his smile faded. Indignation, teasing, feigned injury, or petulance: wouldn't have surprised Ryan. The uncharacteristic lack of emotion in Seth's voice, however, caused a knot to form in Ryan's stomach.

"Your mom told me to take a nap and I woke up five hours later . . . too late for visiting hours. Sorry, man. How are you?" Ryan settled himself onto a stool.

Seth ignored Ryan's question and continued without a hint of the humor or sarcasm that always bubbled out during a Seth Cohen-conversation. "You could have called."

Ryan hesitated before replying. "I was going to call. I was on my way back to the pool house when you called."

"You didn't call earlier?" Seth's voice turned sharp.

__

Fuck, Summer told him I called. I lied and he knows it! What did she tell him? Ryan improvised. "Yeah, I got Summer while you were out for your stroll. Like I said, I was about to try again."

"I thought you said . . . never mind. What did you guys talk about?" Suspicion was clear in Seth's voice.

"Nothing important. You, of course." Ryan chuckled hoping to relieve the tension and divert Seth from the topic of Ryan and Summer's conversation. "What else would we talk about?"

"She was crying when she got off the phone with you. That doesn't sound like nothing to me!" There was anger in Seth's voice now. "What did you talk about, Ryan?"

"You should ask Summer." Ryan hesitated to say anything without knowing what Summer had told him. Volunteering information could only get him in more trouble with Seth. It was better to let Seth do the talking.

"I did. She said you tried to grab her at school today . . . to hit her." Seth's voice was now full of anguish and pain. "You wouldn't do that. Tell me you didn't do that."

"Why did she say I did it?"

"You mean you hit her?" Seth asked in disbelief.

"No, Seth. Did you ask Summer what the argument was about?" Ryan tried to keep his voice calm, to stay cool. Arguing with Seth was pointless. He'd never won an argument with him. If he could calm Seth down, he might get a chance to explain.

"She said you got angry with her when she tried to talk to you about Marissa . . . that you tried to get her to stop. She thinks you tried to grab her because you didn't like hearing the truth about yourself. That's when she slapped you." Seth stopped abruptly. When Ryan didn't answer immediately and the silence grew uncomfortable, Seth blurted out, "Ryan, are you still there?"

Ryan hesitated and hated that Seth could hear the hesitation. He knew Seth wanted to hear him deny it, to deny everything. "I'm here, Seth." Ryan chose his words carefully. "Summer was upset. She wanted me to drop everything and run off to help Marissa. She got pissed when I refused. I never hit --"

Seth interrupted him. "Did you try to grab her? She said you tried to grab her."

"Summer was yelling at me and she wouldn't let me talk. She got angrier . . . more upset . . . meaner. The things she said weren't true. I just wanted her to stop . . . to let me explain. I reached out toward her and she freaked." Ryan ran out of words. As he waited for Seth to say something, he realized he hadn't actually denied Summer's version. He took a breath and, in a voice as flat and empty of emotion as Seth's had been earlier, said, "Seth, I didn't grab Summer or try to hit her. Nothing happened. You can either believe me or not."

The wind blew leaves against the windows and caused miniature whitecaps to form in the swimming pool. The smell of rain and an occasional rumble of thunder from the approaching storm came in through the open door. Ryan felt the temperature dropping in the kitchen as the storm neared, but made no effort to close the patio door. He sat on the stool shivering, waiting for Seth to say something.

"Is that it?" Seth's voice registered a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.

"Seth . . .," Ryan started. "Yeah, that's it."

"I need time but it's late. I sent Mom to the cafeteria for ice cream and she'll be back soon. I'm too tired to think about any of this tonight."

The chill that ran through Ryan had nothing to do with the wind tousling his hair. Ryan wondered what there was to think about. _Seth, you either believe me or not_. He would neither pressure Seth, nor force the issue. Instead he remained silent and waited to see if Seth would leave him with any hope.

"I love her, Ryan. Why would Summer lie to me about you? It doesn't make any sense."

Seth's voice had a plaintive note in it that tore at Ryan and made him wish everything had happened the way Summer said it had. If it had, he could apologize, Seth would forgive him and they could get on with their lives. Seth wouldn't have to decide whose version was true.

"I don't know what to believe. I'll talk to you later." With that, Seth hung up.

Ryan carried the handset across the kitchen and placed it in its base on the wall. He stood with his right hand still on the handset, his head resting on his hand. Lightning suddenly pierced the clouds, filling the house with bright, white light. The Cohen's bar was highlighted for a second in its alcove between the kitchen and the living room and then the rest of the house was plunged back into darkness.

Ryan walked out of the kitchen and to the bar. He located the switch for the bar lights and turned them on. Arranged for maximum effect, the lights produced a dazzling display as the crystal glassware, the chrome and mirrors, and the bottles with their multi-colored contents reflected back the light. He knelt and checked in the cabinet beneath the whiskey section for backups.

Ryan smiled as he selected a bottle of Seagram's Seven from the shelf and then pulled forward another bottle to fill the gap his selection had left. As he stood, he flipped off the bar lights. Carrying the bottle by its neck, he walked back through the kitchen on the way to the pool house. He carefully closed the patio door against the wind and the first large raindrops of the storm that were striking the paving stones of the patio.

The clouds released torrents of rain seconds after he entered the pool house. Ryan stood at the door watching the rain and wind churn the water in the pool into froth. He turned away from the door and climbed the steps to his small kitchen. Setting the bottle on the counter, he selected a glass from the cabinet over head. Ryan eyed it for a minute. _Mom would have liked this for her cocktails._ _Even the stuff in the pool house is better than anything we had at home_.

Ryan got the can of 7-Up out of the refrigerator and pulled out the ice tray from the freezer compartment. A quick, practiced twist of the cap and the whiskey bottle was open. He filled his glass with ice and poured several fingers of whiskey in followed by a splash of the soda. He stirred the drink with his index finger and then sucked the liquid off his finger. A smile flickered across Ryan's face that Seth would not have recognized. It was a thin smile, with no humor in it, and one that failed to reach his blue eyes. _You wouldn't call me a wimp tonight AJ. I made this drink strong enough for you. _He was going to do it Dawn's way. No pills that made him vulnerable and talkative, he'd use alcohol and a little, a very little, mix to deal with the day he'd had. He was going to drink himself to sleep and to hell with what tomorrow brought.

But first, always toast your enemies. That had been Dawn's motto. He remembered the first time he'd heard her say it. He was five and having his cereal with her and Trey at the kitchen table. She had a cigarette and her morning coffee and was explaining the way the world worked to Trey. "Your enemies are the only people you can trust." She had told him. "You can depend on them to never disappoint. You know what to expect from them. Enemies always meet or exceed your expectations." He remembered she'd laughed then and held up her cigarette. "See this? That's what friends are, a quick hot hit like a drag on a new smoke and then there's nothing but smoke and ash left." Five-year-old Ryan thought Mommy looked sad briefly before she laughed again and told Trey to get the hell to school.

Ryan lifted his glass to his enemies and to the rain that was cascading down the windows of the pool house in sheets. He took a healthy slug of his drink and had to fight to keep from choking. AJ would have laughed his ass off if he'd seen that. He could imagine AJ's voice. Newport's made you soft, Atwood - too trusting, too dependent on the opinion of others. He would need to pace himself tonight. There had been too much friendly, social drinking and no blot out the pain drinking since he'd come here. He knew he'd find his rhythm again. An Atwood could be counted on not to forget that.

Ryan sat propped up in bed with his drink watching the rain and the light show being put on by the storm. Between flashes of lightening, the only light in the pool house came from his bedside lamp. He sat in a small pool of light surrounded by darkness. He took another swallow of his drink and smiled as it went down smoothly. He was regaining his form. Ryan Atwood would be where he wanted soon enough.


	12. 11:00 pm

A BAD MONDAY

11:00 pm

Ryan lay on his side looking down into the glass he held loosely in his hand. He had found neither truth nor escape in alcohol. He felt the alcohol working in his system. Alcohol was supposed to be a depressant; so, why didn't the damn light bulb switch off? Why couldn't he relax, stop worrying, shut down?

__

I wonder how Seth is? The thought insinuated itself into the tumbling kaleidoscope of his mind. This morning it had all been about Seth. _How is he; why can't I spend the day with him; well, when can I visit him in the hospital?_ _Now – now I don't know anything. _The kaleidoscope has rotated and all the pieces of Ryan's new life have turned upside down. They've shifted into different patterns that he feared might be permanent. Patterns that no longer had a place for him in Seth's life.

Anna had given him a report on Seth from her visit this afternoon. She'd been upbeat and positive about Seth's physical progress and all too correct in her description of the way in which Summer had moved in and taken over Seth's life. If he'd only made it up to the hospital today, he'd have more than her second hand report. Ryan grimaced. If his conversation with Seth hadn't gone so badly, he'd know how his friend was right now. The fear nagged at Ryan that maybe their talk had done more than just upset Seth. His rational self argued, however, that no one ever died of confusion, hurt and disappointment, at least outside nineteenth century romances.

Ryan's grip on the glass tightened and he swirled the glass letting the ice stir his drink. He took a swallow. Leaning back into the pillows, he watched the play of shadows across the ceiling of the poolhouse. His bedside lamp and the intermittent flashes of lightening from the storm outside caused fantastic shadows to form and dissolve overhead. _If Seth were here tonight, what would he see in those shadows? What crazy stories would he create out of them to interrupt my studying, make me laugh or just drive me crazy? He says I'm too serious, spend too much time studying and don't allow myself enough Ryan time. That's easy for him to say. _Ryan drained the last of his drink_. He doesn't have to prove to anyone that he belongs at Harbor._

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his thoughts. Ryan rolled his head to the left and squinted at the phone considering what his response to another phone call should be. Frowning, he rolled toward the phone. Setting his glass down carefully on the stand, he grabbed the handset.

"What?" Ryan snapped. He assumed it was one of the jerks from Harbor having another joke at his expense. Tonight he didn't care what kind of call they were visiting him with: obscene, "helpful" advice, or dead air. After his calls from Summer and Seth, Ryan welcomed the opportunity to unload on someone. The anonymous callers who made his life so interesting out of class could be on the receiving end this time.

"Ryan? Are you okay? I woke you. I'm so sorry." The voice on the other end was apologetic.

__

God, why is Kirsten calling? "No, it's cool. I wasn't asleep. I had some calls earlier tonight…" He paused. He couldn't go with the truth with Kirsten, not tonight. "…Some crank calls. I thought you were another one." His mind abruptly jumped from his own depressed thoughts to a different more frightening thought. "Is Seth okay?"

"Seth's fine, Ryan. He's sleeping like an angel. Oh, you won't tell him I said that about him, will you? He'd kill both of us, you know, me for saying it and you because you heard me say it." Ryan could hear her smile.

"I came out to check on you. Seth's been asking about you all day. I think he was on the verge of ordering us all out to search for you this afternoon when Summer arrived and distracted him." Ryan wasn't sure if he heard amusement or sarcasm in Kirsten's voice as she continued. "Summer certainly takes his mind off everything else when she's around."

"Seth started to worry about you again this evening when you didn't make it to the hospital for dinner. I had to promise him during our walk around the floor that either Sandy or I would check on you tonight. Just in the time that it took us to make one circuit of the floor I think he asked me about you three times. When Sandy didn't call, I thought I'd better check myself."

"I'm really fine, Kirsten. Haven't seen Sandy tonight but this storm is a monster. Traffic must be awful on the freeways."

"Damn! That wasn't directed at you Ryan but at my MIA husband." Ryan didn't care who it was meant for as long as it took Kirsten's mind off him. "Sandy was only going to stop at the restaurant for a few minutes before going home. He must have gotten delayed there. He should have been home an hour ago. Did you eat anything tonight, Ryan?"

Kirsten's change of topic took Ryan by surprise. "Yeah." He thought about the cereal and juice he'd had before Seth's call. "I fixed myself something."

"Cereal?" Kirsten's voice held a mix of irritation and concern.

"Breakfast of champions," Ryan offered weakly.

"Oh, Ryan. I'm no cook but even I can manage to warm soup and make grilled cheese. You ought to have had something better than cold cereal. I wish…"

"Yeah, I know, but you're where you need to be; and I can take care of myself. I'm not Seth." He didn't want Kirsten feeling sorry for him and her chuckle reassured him.

Kirsten had not, however, forgotten how he answered the telephone and zeroed right back in on that. "Ryan, tell me about these calls you've gotten. You've never mentioned them before."

__

You wouldn't have heard anything about them tonight if I'd been thinking more clearly. Ryan silently cursed himself for breaking one of the cardinal rules: give no more information to parents than they need to have. "They're nothing. If I weren't tired they wouldn't have gotten under my skin so much tonight." _Drop it Kirsten._ _Please!_

"It's not nothing, Ryan, if these calls are bothering you. Sandy and I will take care of it." Sounding very much like the senior executive she was, she continued. "There are several things we can do. We'll change the telephone number for the poolhouse again and make sure it's unlisted. We changed it when Hailey moved out the last time. We can add Caller ID to that line. There are also laws against harassment. What sort of calls have you gotten, Ryan? When did they start? How often do you get them?"

__

This is just getting better and better. "Kirsten, you're starting to sound like Sandy. Chill out. It's not a big deal, really. There were only a couple tonight. The phone rings and no-one is on the other end." Hoping to lighten the mood, he added, "There's not even any heavy breathing. Mostly, that's all it ever is." _Damn! Damn! Damn! Where did that come from?_

"Mostly, Ryan? There's more?"

Ryan heard the suspicion in Kirsten's voice and wished that it were undeserved. But he knew that the truth was that he did keep things to himself. He kept secrets - secrets that didn't affect anyone but him. He had always fought his own battles. How could he do anything else now? The Cohens had learned this and, even after Oliver, they tried to allow him space. Sandy and Kirsten couldn't help him with the idiots at Harbor. Seth had never gone to his parents for help. He'd toughed it out.

Why would Ryan ask for help? The harassment had all been petty, irritating stuff by Chino standards. A bunch of toy cars, name calling by some and the silent treatment by others, a collection of Chino shirts, and "accidental" bumping in the halls and on the soccer field at school were the best they had come up with. Ryan was too much of an unknown quantity for them to push him too hard. It had never occurred to Seth to push back; but with Ryan they couldn't tell what might be too much.

Now Ryan had a box full of toy cars in his closet waiting for the Christmas toy drive at St. Theresa's alongside of a box of Chino shirts. Seth suggested to Ryan that he cut the sleeves out of the shirts and make wifebeaters or else turn them into a Harbor memory quilt. (The satisfying whump of Ryan's pillow smacking into Seth's face and the sight of him plucking feathers out of his curls had been Ryan's response to his helpfulness.)

The rest was laughable. The name-calling and silent treatment would only have been effective if Ryan had wanted to be one of them. It had worked on Seth because of his desperate desire to be accepted and on Luke because of the abruptness of his fall and his hunger to regain his place at Harbor. None of this was important to Ryan. The harassment was tiring and left him edgy; but it was nothing that Kirsten needed to hear about with Seth still in the hospital. _Damage control, Atwood. Damage control._

Tonight Kirsten was pressing for answers. Maybe it was all about the accident and what a close call Seth and he had had; but tonight she wasn't letting up on him. He'd tell her about the calls but not about the stuff at school.

"Sometimes the calls are obscene. Other times the voices on the phone suggest that Newport isn't my kind of place and offer "helpful" suggestions about where I do belong." Ryan tried to play it light. If he had to tell Kirsten anything, it would be the bare minimum. "The calls began in the Fall and I get one once or twice a week. The guys were just a little friskier than usual tonight."

"Have you recognized any of the voices?"

He thought about her question and wondered how she could expect him to answer. He wished he were having this conversation with Sandy. He was a guy. Even though Sandy wouldn't have approved, he would have understood Ryan's dilemma and why he said what he did. "No."

"I'm sorry that you've had to deal with this by yourself, Ryan. If you'd come to us about this earlier…" She let her sentence trail off. "Does Seth know about the calls?" Suspicion was back in her voice.

"No, Seth doesn't know. He thinks I just get a lot of wrong numbers." He tried to keep irritation out of his voice. "Since Summer came into his life, things that don't concern Seth directly don't interest him very much."

"Sandy and I will start work on this problem tomorrow."

"Thanks." He appreciated her concern and tried to show it in his voice.

Who was he kidding? He loved Sandy and Kirsten for the concern and the kindnesses they'd shown him but he wasn't their son. Seth would always come first. That was okay with him. It was how it should be. Summer was right. He was a street punk who got lucky. Sure, Sandy saw himself in Ryan and wanted to give him the same chance he'd been given; and, Kirsten, he didn't know why she wanted him here except to please the men in her life. But, bottom line, he was here because Seth wanted him here and he'd be gone if that ever changed. He and Seth weren't brothers. They didn't have to work out their differences because they were blood. In his case you _could_ ditch one of your kids because the other one had a grudge against him. If Seth decided he believed Summer's version of today's events he'd be history.

Ryan was drawn out of his thoughts by Kirsten's words "It's very odd about Summer though.

"What's odd?" This interested Ryan.

"Seth sent me down to the cafeteria for ice-cream after our walk. It was his not too subtle way of having a last few minutes alone with Summer before visiting hours ended. He was happy when I left for the cafeteria and despondent when I got back. I asked him if he'd had a fight with Summer." At Ryan's groan, Kirsten laughed. "I know, totally uncool and not 'need to know' for a mom. Seth was in such a strange mood and had such a sad face that I had to ask. I gave him a hug along with his ice cream." The groan was louder this time. "Ryan, he looked as though he'd lost his best friend!"

"Was it a fight with Summer?" Ryan asked quietly. He sat forward in bed, his legs crossed beneath him.

"Seth, wouldn't say. In fact Seth wouldn't say anything." Ryan heard amazement in Kirsten's voice. "He ate his ice cream, told me good night, and then turned on his side and went to sleep. I don't know what to make of it. I envy him his ability to turn off whatever's worrying him and sleep." Ryan agreed silently. "He didn't get that ability from either his father or me. But this is so unlike him that it makes me wonder if something is physically wrong. If he's displaying some delayed reaction to his injuries, I should tell his doctors."

"I'm sure it's nothing like that." He didn't want his conflict with Seth freaking out the whole family. "Give him some time. See how he is tomorrow before you go to his doctors."

"Ryan, I was wondering, does Seth ever talk to you about Summer?" At Ryan's explosion of laughter, Kirsten rephrased the question. "I mean you're his best friend. Has he ever mentioned any serious problems they have that might have come up tonight?"

"No. I don't think there's anything about her he dislikes. I don't know what they could have argued about, if that's what happened." Ryan yawned into the receiver. "Kirsten, I'm kind of tired."

"Oh, of course, Ryan. I'm sorry. If you see that husband of mine before you go to sleep, tell him to call me. Oh, and Ryan, Seth wasn't the only one who missed seeing you this evening."

"Thanks. Are you going to get some sleep yourself now?"

"No. I've got a ton of paperwork I brought over from the office today. I'm going to spread out here in the waiting room with my laptop and try to make a dent in it. Doing an all-nighter is a better idea than trusting my back to that hospital rollaway another night. You get some sleep now. It'll be good to have you here tomorrow. Ryan, I know if anything can get Seth out of this mood he's in it's seeing you."


	13. 11:30 pm

A BAD MONDAY

11:30 pm

The worst of the storm passed over Newport after Ryan and Kirsten's conversation. Later, after her call, Ryan watched the storm's light show until its trailing edge moved inland toward the mountains. Now all that remained of the storm was a fine mist falling from rapidly thinning clouds. Already stars were starting to appear in the western sky. Ryan didn't know how long he stood staring into the night before he became conscious of the mess the storm had made of the pool area. Overturned furniture, tree branches, and leaves littered the patio and the surface of the pool was covered with floating debris.

With Seth in the hospital, he should do cleanup detail tomorrow even though he was supposed to be resting. It would, he realized, also give him a plausible excuse to stay home if he wanted one. Doing something physical, something to exercise his aching body, something that would keep his mind occupied, appealed to him. Pushing a broom and handling the pool skimmer would provide an excuse that Kirsten and Sandy might buy for at least one day. He knew Seth wouldn't question his absence tomorrow. He was the last person Seth wanted to see.

Ryan turned away from the door and peered morosely into his empty glass. _One drink in two hours – this is going to be a long night. _As he made his way to the little kitchen for another drink, the light went out in the master suite across the patio. He gave thanks to the storm and whatever emergency had delayed Sandy at The Lighthouse. They had saved him from one of Sandy's lengthy Parent/Teen conversations. Ryan tried to limit those to one a day and he'd already spent the morning ride to school with Sandy and lunch with Kirsten. Both adults had been in dialogue mode.

Without the storm Sandy would never have settled for a simple telephone call. Nothing less than the normally temperate California skies staging a Hollywood special effects version of Calcutta in the monsoon season had kept him out of the poolhouse. Anxious to find out how things were with Ryan, Sandy would have been in Ryan's space as soon he got home. To get rid of him, Ryan would have had to lie.

He had answered honestly the one direct question Sandy asked him on the telephone: "How are you feeling tonight?" He did feel better – physically – tonight. The chills he'd experienced earlier in the day had passed; and his body no longer felt like that of a stranger. It was recognizably his own again. The pain he felt was familiar stuff – the aching muscles and battered body after a hard, physical soccer game or the loser's lot after a "rumble in the hood," Seth's preferred way of characterizing Ryan's fights.

A pained smile crossed Ryan's face before he turned serious again. More probing questions from Sandy would have required outright, deliberate lies. He'd lied to, or at least misled, Kirsten already tonight. In this area he thought it best to follow Seth's maxim: "Lie to only one parental unit a day." Kirsten's request that he ask Sandy to call her had provided Ryan just the distraction he needed. Sandy had lost all interest in pursuing a conversation with him about anything after he relayed that message.

Ryan set the empty glass on the counter. He tossed in a couple of ice cubes, poured a healthy slug of liquor, but skipped the mix this time. His first sip produced a small frown but his second larger drink went down more smoothly. He stared at the bottle considering possible hiding places for it in case of roaming adults or conscientious housekeepers. If the alcohol ever did its job he should have the bottle stashed away in case he crashed for the night.

Ryan was opening cabinet doors and drawers in the kitchen looking for just the right place when the telephone rang. The sound startled Ryan and caused him to bang his head against one of the open cabinet doors as he stood up. A string of oaths burned through the night as he gingerly touched his scalp and checked his fingertips for blood. After four rings the phone went silent as the call switched to his voicemail but almost immediately it began to ring once again. _Not again! What do you have to do to get a little peace in this asylum?_

The phone repeated its cycle again as Ryan considered how satisfying it would be to unplug it from the wall and heave it into the swimming pool. He'd considered at least unplugging the phone after Sandy's call but hadn't touched it. S_urely there's no-one left to call tonight._ But, as long as Seth was still in the hospital, he wouldn't touch it.

He didn't even have a buzz on from the alcohol and he already had a headache. Ryan rubbed his temple, took a gulp of his drink, and walked down the three steps to the sleeping area. He could see the red numbers on his digital clock. Monday would soon be over. Ryan set his glass down and slowly picked up the phone.


	14. 11:45 pm

Disclaimer: I'm doing this just for fun. I don't own anything connected with the O.C.

A BAD MONDAY

11:45 pm

"Yeah?" Ryan slumped into the chair, legs stretched out in from of him, the telephone pressed to his ear. The silence felt good. His headache was so bad.

He waited and as the seconds passed and the throbbing in his head continued Ryan lost patience. "When you grow a pair, buddy, I'll be here."

Ryan's finger, poised to disconnect, hesitated when a voice answered him.

"Hey, Ryan."

Ryan thought that he'd never heard Seth sound so young.

"What are you doing up so late? You need your rest." Ryan slid further down into his chair until his neck rested on the back cushion. He closed his eyes and concentrated on not thinking about the pain.

"I tried the sleep thing and it's not happening tonight so I thought I'd call you. No one else would be up so late on a school night."

"Oh?"

"Well, yeah, right, everyone would still be up. Only total geeks would be in bed this early." Seth lapsed into a momentary silence.

"Ryan, I didn't ask you how you were doing earlier."

"Okay."

"That's good." The phone went silent again.

Ryan had never heard so many pauses in one Seth Cohen conversation.

"I called because you didn't say if you were coming to the hospital tomorrow." There was a plaintive, little kid quality in Seth's voice. "Not that you have to or anything if you've got plans already. That would be, like, completely cool. You know what I always say, a guy can never have too much bonding time with his dad. But - it's just that I know Mom got you sprung from school for the next two days; and since I'm not going anywhere, I thought if you were free we could hang together."

"No," Ryan replied quietly.

"So, you're saying that 'no' you didn't say if you were coming, or you're saying that 'no' you're not coming, or you're saying…" Seth hesitated. "…You're saying that 'no' you don't want to hang with me?"

Converting Seth's convoluted sentences into something simple and understandable challenged Ryan on a good day and today didn't qualify as that. Tonight he wasn't sure if he even cared enough to try. Ryan rubbed the spot between his eyes where it felt as though the blood was trying to burst out of his temple.

"Yes."

"Monosyllabic responses – I can deal with that," Seth went on unfazed. "If horses can communicate with their masters using their hooves to stamp out messages, you and I can find an equally effective medium of communication."

This brought a snort from Ryan.

Seth continued thoughtfully. "Eye blinks are out since Dad, shortsightedly, refused to buy me the picturephone I wanted; however, we could use the 20 questions technique, or I could run through the alphabet and you could spell out your response a letter at a time with just a 'yes' or a 'no', like with an Ouija Board."

These suggestions drew only silence.

Ignoring Ryan's lukewarm response, Seth plowed ahead. "So, anyway, I was thinking that if you rode in with Dad we'd have the morning to ourselves while everyone's in school. I'm here all alone in the morning with nothing but Dad and daytime television. Ryan you've got to save me.

"Later Dad could drop you off at home after lunch when he goes to the office so you could rest, kick back, and have the rest of the day for Ryan time. Besides, I'll have company in the afternoon when school's out. Tim and Anna said they'd be back to see me. Did you know Tim likes comics? I don't think Anna knew that about him because she smiled a lot after comics came up in conversation. Of course, Tim's a DC Golden Age fan but no one's perfect. I think he can be brought up to speed on the advances made in the graphic novel form since the 1950's.

"Even Luke called today. He promised to come by for a visit. This whole thing of Luke acting like a real human being instead of a life-size Ken doll is just weird. But get this, he said he thought he could fit me into his busy social calendar. It's not a great joke; actually it's pretty pathetic even for someone as gentile as Luke, but since he was the butt of his own joke, it means he really isn't the same jerkoff jock he was at the start of last summer. So, I'm totally covered for company in the afternoon, dude. You can split without worrying about Seth Cohen being alone."

Seth stopped to breathe.

"And, since I'm getting out of here on Thursday, Mom and Dad are trying to cut me loose from the 24 hour parental monitoring thing. They love me but I can tell that being away from their offices so much is killing them. If you came up in the morning Dad might not feel like he had to stay all morning. He could go into the office earlier. So you see, Ryan, you'd really be doing Dad a favor if you came in with him. It's totally a win, win situation."

Ryan felt like he'd been tossed into a cement mixer with a dumptruck load of Seth's words and set on mix. It was hard for him to make sense of it all. He knew, however, that in that avalanche of words Seth had not mentioned one name.

"And Summer?"

"Yeah, she'll probably show up too this afternoon." Seth's offhanded casualness caused a smile to flicker across Ryan's face.

"I don't think I can make it, Seth."

"Because of Summer?"

Ryan ignored Seth's question as he gazed out the windows of the poolhouse. Tonight was a full moon and with the sky clear of clouds now the patio and the storm's aftermath could be plainly seen.

"Seth, the patio is a mess. It looks like we had a hurricane tonight and it needs to be cleaned up. I thought I'd do that."

"Mom will hire someone to do it. You don't live with us so you can clean up around the place," Seth answered promptly.

This time it was Ryan who hesitated. "Seth, why did you call?"

"I don't way you to be mad at me." It was the lonely kid - the one who'd never had a friend before Ryan came Newport - who was talking.

"I'm not mad at you, Seth." Ryan answered patiently as though he **was** explaining to a small child. "We just need some apart time."

"I'll get Summer to apologize to you."

"Seth."

"Right. An apology is probably not in the cards. Would you settle for her never talking to you again?" he asked hopefully.

"Seth, all I want is for her to stay out of my face. We're going to be around each other as long as you two are a couple. That's cool. If she can leave me alone, I'll stay the hell away from her."

"That's all? I can make that happen. Seth is your man. He knows how to keep his woman in line," Seth bragged, but then added hurriedly, "You won't tell Summer I said that? She would like totally hurt me if she knew I called her 'my woman.' So, you'll come up tomorrow with Dad?"

Ryan ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'll ride in with Sandy." Ryan knew when he'd been rolled. "Seth, there's one thing though."

"Yeah?" Seth answered uneasily.

"If this thing with you and Summer continues, don't ask me to be your best man."

"Ryan, my friend, you have my word - no bestmanhood in your future," Seth agreed happily. "But you'll still plan my bachelor party, right? Ry, with your connections, if you did it, I know it would be awesome. Dude, and you'll be in the wedding. Not best man 'cause I just said you didn't have to do that but maybe a groomsman or an usher. An usher, Ryan, you could handle being an usher, right? Then, after the ceremony you'll be part of the desperate pack of bachelors herded onto the ballroom floor to vie for my lady's garter which I will have adroitly, but not too quickly, removed from my beloved's thigh with only the help of my teeth and tongue."

Ryan groaned at Seth's word picture of his night in hell. "Seth, I think you need to go to bed. Now!"

"Yeah, I think I should do that. See you in the morning. Oh, and Ryan, bring up some good game cartridges. The ones Dad picked out suck."

"Okay, goodnight, Seth." Ryan disconnected. He pulled himself out of his chair and walked to his bed stand where he unplugged the telephone cord from his phone's base.

Picking up his glass, he carried it to the kitchen and poured his drink down the drain. The contents of the Seagram's bottle followed. It hurt to see all that good whiskey going to waste. He next wrapped a newspaper around the empty bottle and placed it in the trash under the sink. _The trash definitely goes out tomorrow. _The rest of the kitchen cleanup he left for the morning.

Ryan walked wearily down the steps. He flipped off his bed lamp as he passed and fell onto the bed. Staring at him out of the gloom were the glowing red numerals of his clock. The final few seconds of Monday slipped away. As Monday became Tuesday in the poolhouse, he realized that his headache had not followed him into the new day. Ryan rolled onto his back and yawned. Before drifting off to sleep, Ryan wondered if it was too soon to start making notes for his best man's toast.

A/N Apologies to everyone for the inordinate length of time needed to get this finished. In my defense, I didn't expect to lose the use of one arm for two months.

Thanks to my two Beta's: Lisa who saw me through most of it (I don't think I did too much damage to Ryan's character) and Erin who saw me to the finish line. I am, of course, responsible for everything wrong with this chapter and those that have preceded it.

This was definitely a learning experience. The thing learned - never start posting until you have at least a draft of the thing done. A lesson I intend to take to heart in the future..


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